High-Flying, Adored
by miss-terra-incognita
Summary: Being a superhero is hard. It's even harder when you're desperately in love with the most famous figure skater in the world, who never seems to notice you. Of course it doesn't help that he's a superhero too–and he's head over heels for your alter-ego. Enjoy the awkward fumblings of these two masked men as they dance the terrifying tango of young love and secret identities.
1. The Left Hand Knows Not

Hasetsu could be beautiful after dark, but instead it's just... nice. It's probably the lack of lights. Tokyo is always lit up like Christmas Day after dark, but out here in the sticks people go to bed early and don't tend to waste electricity on all-night luminary displays. Still, the fishing boats in the harbor make a decent backdrop and the castle always keeps a few lamps burning. It isn't much, but it's nice. It's home.

Yuuri is a little uncertain about this… new superhero. Snowcap, he calls himself. As far as Yuuri knows, Snowcap made a name for himself fighting organized crime in St. Petersburg. He isn't sure what brought him to Japan-a lead maybe, or just boredom-but whatever it was, it's serious encroachment on Yuuri's territory.

After all, Yuuri only took up the mantle of Eros a few years ago. He's having a difficult enough time keeping up with petty crimes on the streets of his home town, and he hasn't even turned his eye toward Tokyo yet. How is he supposed to make any headway at all with some Russian hothead-coldhead?-blowing in and turning the whole world upside-down?

Also, the way Snowcap looks at him makes him nervous. Really nervous. He looks at Yuuri like he wants to eat him alive.

He should be used to it, he reasons. People always get a hungry look under Eros' trademark Silken Thrall. But, he thinks, Snowcap is the first person who's done it without the help of a magic spell. The first person who's done it like it makes more sense than breathing.

Shaking his head hard, Yuuri takes a deep breath and lets it out in a long hiss. He has enough to worry about, he really does. His parents have taken on Victor Nikiforov-Victor Nikiforov!-as a lodger at their hot springs, and Yuuri really doesn't know what to do with himself. Which is understandable, he argues internally, given that he's been desperately in love with the man since the first time he saw him skate. It's a miracle he can speak to him at all, really.

Yuuri stifles a humiliated groan as he slides down an inclined roof into a narrow alley that allows enough privacy to change into his civilian clothes. If he's going to make a fool of himself, he might as well change out of the skintight spandex first.

* * *

Eros. Eros, Eros! Victor loves the name. That shimmering costume, all black and silver and lean. That heart-shaped face, all warm eyes and sweet, mocking mouth. He loves the way he moves and the tilt of his hips, the gentle turn of his hands when casting the Thrall.

The problem is, Eros can barely spare the time of day for Snowcap.

Victor huffs, hunkering down a little deeper into his yukata. A soft scraping sound behind him informs Victor that the serving boy-what was his name-Yuuri, has returned with his dinner. Yuuri is a part of the family who owns the hot spring that Victor made his unofficial (secret identities, etc.) headquarters upon his arrival in Japan. Under the guise of continuing his figure skating training, which is more of a hobby now that he's discovered the wonderful world of vigilantism, he packed up and moved all the way from Russia to this rather humble backwater in Japan. And all for the chance of meeting Eros, who barely seems to notice him.

Another soft cough, and Victor starts. He turns to face Yuuri, smiling apologetically and waving a little in acknowledgement. "Oh! Sorry, yes, set it anywhere. Thanks Yuuri."

The boy flushes a dark crimson. Victor realized early on that he probably wasn't going to get much in the way of conversation out of Yuuri, who seems painfully shy and even more painfully inarticulate. Still, he's sweet and clever and has a good head for cooking.

Yuuri moves into the room in an awkward sidle, trying to maintain as much distance between the two of them as possible, and sets the tray down carefully. Victor wonders, a little sadly, if the two of them are ever going to be friends. Yuuri seems almost afraid of him, and it really is lonely not to know anyone in this town.

"Thanks," he says again, just to fill the silence.

Yuuri has already moved back to the door, but he glances up when Victor speaks and for a moment their eyes met.

And god. His eyes are so familiar…

"It's nothing," he manages to stutter out, and then the door slides shut with a decisive click.


	2. There's No I in Team

**Summary:** He's beauty, he's grace, he'll put an arrow through your hamstring.

* * *

"I think it's about time you cooled off!"

Yuuri groans loudly at the heavily-accented pun. Snowcap never seems able to resist making an entrance, and for whatever reason he thinks puns are an appropriate way to announce his arrival.

"Snowcap. Hi."

The Russian superhero looks up from the gangster he's blasting with what looks like several metric tons of snow and grins. "Eros! What a surprise!"

Yuuri makes a face. "You've been following me for ten blocks. I saw the icicles."

Shrugging, Snowcap turns his unrepentant smile up a couple notches. "Well, it was a surprise ten blocks ago then. Oh!" He slaps his forehead. "I should have said 'ice to see you'. That would have been way better."

To say that Yuuri disagrees would be generous, and also an appalling understatement. But he doesn't say anything. Instead he sets his sights on an assailant who is trying to make a quick escape via the rooftops. He presses his hands together, and when he draws them apart a silver arrow gleams between them as if suspended on an invisible bow.

He releases it. The man stumbles and falls, the wound in his leg staining the snow red. It isn't deep-Yuuri wasn't aiming to seriously maim-but it's enough to keep him in one place for a while.

Snowcap, meanwhile, has just finished patting the snow covering his own opponent into an unconvincing facsimile of a pert bottom. He glances up at the place where the man has fallen and hums cheerful approval.

"Hey, Eros?"

"Hm?"

"Ice shot."


	3. Spandex Can't Stop Bullets

**Summary:** Crime-fighting is dangerous, and sometimes you get hurt. Sometimes your partner gets hurt, which is worse.

* * *

When Eros is hit, for Victor, time stands still. His breath freezes in his lungs and his laugh freezes on his lips. His hands, always moving, flutter to a halt in the air. He is a statue carved from ice and he knows, he knows he's about to shatter.

Then Eros falls, and the pieces of Victor break apart like a thousand jagged shards.

He doesn't scream. That's the weird part, he'll think later. He doesn't make a single sound. Instead he turns sharp eyes on their opponent, ice and snow coming when he summons them like loyal dogs and he doesn't hesitate to turn them loose. He's silent as the blades of ice pierce the man's chest. Silent as the blood freezes before it hits the ground. Silent as his last breath coils out of him in a single puff of visible vapor.

Before that breath can disperse, he's already moving. Already running to Eros' side and flinging himself down in the shallow snow. Now the words come hard and fast and desperate, panicked pleas and frantic questions, and through it all Eros just stares at him like he's the most beautiful monster he's ever seen.

"A hospital! You need a hospital, here, let me help you up!"

But Eros shakes his head slowly, eyes distant behind that black mask. "…No. No hospitals." Slowly, accepting Victor's proffered hand, he gets to his feet. He stumbles. Victor catches him. He stands again. "You know I can't let anyone find out who I am."

"Then come home with me," Victor pleads. "I won't tell anyone, just let me-"

"No," Eros says again. He smiles, lifts a hand to Victor's face. The hand is wet with blood, and leaves a smear of red across Victor's pale cheek. In his hair. "It's fine, Snowcap. I'm fine. I've had worse. I'll manage." He lets go, and turns toward a narrow alley. He sways a bit, but stays upright.

"Eros please," Victor tries again, taking a step forward.

"No." This time Eros' tone is ice. It brooks no argument. He doesn't bother looking back. "I've drawn the line, Snowcap. Cross it, and our partnership ends."

He stands still for a moment. Waiting. But Victor doesn't try again. Then, shoulders sagging, Eros disappears into the dark.

A few moments of breathless silence later, Victor allows himself to breathe again. He stares down at the snow. Eros has left a trail of red behind him, a scattering of crimson drops that Victor knows he could follow were he so inclined. He could trace Eros all the way back, out of this life and into the private one he keeps so close to his chest. It's tempting.

Victor kicks some snow over the tracks. Turns. Walks away.

When he gets back to the hot springs, Yuuri is more quiet than usual. Brings him dinner, doesn't meet his eyes. Victor doesn't even try to make conversation, too distracted by the thought of Eros out there in the snow, alone.

He doesn't notice the way Yuuri sags against the door on his way out, or the sharp hiss of his breath, or the unsteadiness of his walk.


	4. Discretion is the Better Part

**Summary:** It takes more than one pair of shoulders to carry the weight of the world.

* * *

Yuuri decides that he likes having another superhero around. The wound is still healing, but he doesn't feel bad taking a week off from jumping around the rooftops. He does try, early in the week, to put the damaged costume back on and take out a few purse-snatchers, but Snowcap catches up with him.

"Looking pretty cool, for a guy who got shot two days ago." The pun falls flat. Snowcap is edgy, concerned.

"It's fine," Yuuri tells him with a little shrug. "It's closed up, and it won't take long to heal."

Snowcap is already shaking his head by the time Yuuri has finished talking. "No. No, you're taking the week off."

"I can't just-"

There's a black-gloved finger wagging under his nose, and he crosses his eyes to glare at it. "No," Snowcap says again, the tails of his burgundy jacket fluttering in an icy breeze. "You need rest." His face softens, mask catching the light as he tilts his head to one side. "I'll cover for you," he assures Yuuri quietly. "I promise."

And he does. The next day the local paper is full of praise for Snowcap, who seems to have been everywhere at once the night before. Instead of feeling threatened, Yuuri just feels grateful.

It's nice, he thinks. Being able to count on someone. Even if that someone is a pun-obsessed lunatic who looks like an escapee from an avant-garde production of The Nutcracker.


	5. Let's Do Something Stupid

**Summary:** Making friends is hard, but Victor is a natural.

* * *

Yuuri stares down mournfully at the costume in his hands. A bullet hole! Clear through it! And blood, way more blood than he's comfortable with. It isn't like he hasn't dealt with this particular dilemma before, but that doesn't make it any easier. It lies limply in his hands like a snake's shed skin, looking bedraggled and messy and not remotely heroic.

He really should've dealt with this the night it happened. Ugh.

The shoji behind him is flung open and Yuuri whirls around, stashing the costume somewhere in his rumpled blankets. "I- What-"

"Yuuri," Victor greets him from the door, smiling and wiggling his fingers in a little wave.

Suddenly in very unfamiliar waters, Yuuri waves back somewhat dazedly.

Victor sweeps into the room-Yuuri is pretty sure he sweeps into every room he enters-and leans against the dresser like the space belongs to him. Like he was born in it. Yuuri envies that confidence more than he can say.

"Yuuri," Victor says again, "I've been in Hasetsu for a week now and do you know that not a single person has offered to take me sight-seeing?"

Yuuri blinks owlishly up at him through glasses that are still slightly askew from his panicked scramble to hide the costume. Uncertain what the figure skating legend expects, he can only offer a quiet, "…Oh."

"I want to look around," Victor says cheerfully, "And I was thinking, who knows Hasetsu better than someone who was born here?"

"Well…"

"Will you take me on a tour?"

Yuuri stares. There's an odd kind of tension in Victor, as though he's trying to distract himself from something. A barely-restrained manic edge to him. A tiger in a cage just slightly too small.

A very pretty tiger. Yuuri flushes.

"Sure, I mean." He tries not to sound completely terrified. "I mean, I guess so?"

"Great!" Victor sweeps out of the room-always sweeping-and pauses just outside. "I'll wait for you in the front garden."

Then he's gone, and Yuuri is left replaying that last sentence over and over in his head. Victor Nikiforov is waiting for him in the garden. It's a considerable victory that he doesn't swoon.

* * *

It's cold, and the cold is eating away at Yuuri's shoulder. He's healing faster than most people would have, but it was a pretty deep wound. The bullet, he recalls with some chagrin, was fairly difficult to pull out. It's currently wrapped in a bloody tissue at the bottom of his waste paper basket. Probably not particularly hygienic, but being a superhero is a lot messier than people seem to realize.

And more painful. He lurches a little when he walks.

Victor, on the other hand, is grace in human form. Yuuri has to check his feet just to make sure he isn't actually skating through the crowd, he moves with such smooth fluidity. Heads turn as he passes, and he returns stares with smiles wherever they go.

"What do you think of Eros?"

It's a sudden question, and unexpected. Yuuri blinks. "Eros?"

Victor laughs. "You know, Eros? Masked vigilante, darling of Hasetsu?"

"Oh. Yeah." Yuuri swallows. "He's okay, I guess."

"Just okay?" Victor raises an eyebrow.

"Well," Yuuri continues, a little chagrined, "I mean, he's pretty new at it, you know?"

"Is he? He seems so professional." Victor makes a thoughtful sound, tapping his chin with an elegant, gloved finger. "He must be a natural."

Yuuri flushes to the roots of his hair and hides his embarrassment with a coughing fit.

Victor, a look of surprised concern crossing his face, flutters to his side. "Are you all right?" He raises a hand and thumps Yuuri's back, hoping to ease his coughing, but his hand comes down directly on his wounded shoulder.

Crying out before he can stop himself, Yuuri crumples to his knees.

"Yuuri!" Victor barks in obvious shock, dropping down beside him. "What's wrong? Did I hurt you?"

Puffs of white breath dilute the clear air between them as Yuuri struggles to pull himself together. Fuck. Oh, fuck, that hurt. He pushes himself to his feet, waving Victor's concerned hands away and forcing out an embarrassed laugh. "It's fine, it's fine," he manages, still breathing raggedly. "I think I jarred my shoulder raking the yard yesterday. Sorry, I didn't mean to worry you." He flushes. "Not that I think you would worry about me! It's just, you know, you're really nice, you seem like the kind of person who would worry about people."

He clenches his teeth to stop himself from babbling, face so red it matches the crimson scarf around his neck.

Victor blinks, then smiles broadly. "As long as you're sure you're all right," he says easily, "That's what matters. But maybe you should go home, if you're in pain."

Yuuri shakes his head. "No, I'm fine. I probably just twisted it. Um." He shifts his weight uncomfortably for a moment. "Do you… want to get something to eat?"

Immediately Victor is off on a tangent about the merits of Japanese food, his hands fluttering as though he conducts an invisible orchestra. Falling into step behind him, Yuuri smiles. This is nice. He likes this. And it's definitely worth the pulsing ache in his shoulder.


	6. Moral Ambiguity Looks Great On You

**Summary:** Sometimes arrows aren't enough.

* * *

Yuuri doesn't use the Silken Thrall very often. He doesn't like it. It makes him uncomfortable, reaching into someone's head like that. Into someone's heart. But every once in a while it's the only way, and he can't avoid it.

A look. That's all it takes, for some. He locks eyes with the man holding his knife to the little girl's throat, and makes a come-hither gesture with one gloved hand. The man fights it for a moment, and Yuuri pours a little more of himself into the spell. Curls his fingers.

The knife falls from numb hands. Dropping the girl, the man moves forward as though in a trance. The look in his eyes is hungry, desperate, as though Yuuri is water and he's dying of thirst. Yuuri doesn't risk looking away to make sure the little girl is safe. Holding the spell takes all of his concentration, and the corners of his mouth go tense as something in the man's mind rebels at the intrusion.

You need me, he thinks, and the man needs him. Follow me, he thinks, and the man moves forward again on unsteady feet.

Then Snowcap is there, slicing through the air like a sudden storm, his elbow cracking down on the back of the man's neck. He crumples without a sound.

Yuuri feels his stomach roll, and he covers his mouth reflexively with his hand. His head is pounding, his heart racing unpleasantly. Snowcap looks for the girl, but she's already vanished into the growing crowd around them. Instead he turns his attention on Yuuri.

"Hey," he says softly, "You all right?"

The nausea passes. Yuuri straightens up and nods. "Fine. You?"

A relieved smile sweeps across Snowcap's face. "Bruised my elbow. Wanna kiss it better?"

Yuuri rolls his eyes to hide an exasperated smile. "Kiss it better yourself." He vaults up onto the eves of a nearby building, still shaking off the aftereffects of using the Thrall.

Snowcap follows, landing lightly behind him and pouting. "No fair," he whines. "No one can kiss their own elbow."

Yuuri's laughter lingers on the rooftop long after they've both moved on.


	7. Cool Under Pressure

**Summary:** Nobody wants an audience for their superhero quick-change. You don't want civilians knowing how much shapewear you pour yourself into before you put the tights on, for one thing.

* * *

Yuuri is inventing new obscenities for this situation. He doesn't need this kind of aggravation, not when he's just supposed to be out grocery shopping. Peeking over the deli counter he swears softly before ducking his head down out of the line of fire. A few bullets ping harmlessly off the white tiles above his head.

"Is everybody okay?" he asks urgently, eyeing the elderly couple and their two frightened grandchildren who took cover with him when the robbery began. They nod shakily.

"Yuuri," the little girl whispers, clinging to the hem of his cardigan, "It's gonna be okay, right? Eros and Snowcap, they're gonna come save us."

"Right," Yuuri answers, trying to smile for her. "Don't worry. I'm sure… I'm sure they'll be here soon."

"Let me escort you gentlemen to the freezer aisle!"

Yuuri rolls his eyes so hard he thinks he can see the back of his own skull. Still, the fond irritation is more than tinged with relief. Snowcap. Thank god. The sound of crackling ice fills the grocery store, and Yuuri huffs out a laugh when the kids give a jubilant cheer.

More shots are fired. Yuuri peeks his head out, anxious to see how his friend is faring, and finds himself looking directly into a pair of clear blue eyes. He jerks back a little in surprise.

Snowcap grins down at him. "Is everyone okay, uh-" He hesitates for a moment. "…civilian?"

Yuuri nods. "All fine here. How many are there?"

Now it's Snowcap's turn to look surprised. Yuuri doesn't blame him-he isn't exactly acting like the typical civilian in a criminal crossfire. "Well. There are seven, but I already took out four." Snowcap glances over his shoulder, sweeping the area with ice-chip eyes. "Let's try to get you all out of here, okay?"

Nodding, Yuuri picks up the little girl. The elderly man, Mr. Myojin, picks up his grandson. Without a word Yuuri joins hands with Mrs. Myojin and gives her a reassuring smile. "We'll be all right," he assures her. "Snowcap is really good."

Snowcap's pale cheeks color a little at this, but he's quick to cover it with a suave smile. "I try," he preens, and waves them forward without once taking his eyes off the aisles around them.

They have to move slowly, Snowcap checking each row before they step into it, and even then there's a harrowing moment when an assailant darts around a corner while they're in the middle of the aisle. Yuuri turns and uses his leverage on Mrs. Myojin's hand to drag her to the ground, curving himself over the little girl to protect her with his body even as Mr. Myojin does the same for his grandson. Behind them shots ring out, followed by the icy crackle of Snowcap's powers.

When Yuuri looks up the gunman has been neutralized, and Snowcap is giving him a very strange look. "Come on," Yuuri breathes urgently, "We have to get them out of here!"

Shaking himself, Snowcap nods and darts a look into the next aisle. They move more quickly now, and manage to cover the rest of the distance between themselves and the doors without incident. When they're finally outside and the Myojins have been escorted a safe distance from the store and sent on their way, Yuuri breathes a sigh of relief.

"You were great in there," Snowcap says, and Yuuri returns his wide smile. "Ever considered superhero work?"

"Oh no," Yuuri replies, laughing and waving his hands dismissively. "I'm not really- That isn't really the kind of life for me."

Snowcap shrugs good-naturedly. "You might surprise yourself. I'll see you around, yeah? I'd better get back in there." A jaunty little wave, and he's disappearing into the supermarket. Yuuri hears gunfire overlaid with the sound of cheerful laughter and-he's pretty sure-another ice pun.

"Yeah," Yuuri says with a little chuckle, shaking his head bemusedly, "You'll see me around." He heads home. Snowcap's got this one.

* * *

When Yuuri gets back to the hot springs, Victor isn't there. Twenty minutes later he steps through the front door, smiling broadly and holding two large grocery bags in his hands. "I heard there was some trouble at the market," he says, vague as ever, "And I know you were going grocery shopping today. I figured you probably hadn't been able to pick anything up, so I stopped at the corner store."

Yuuri stutters out a quick thank you, overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness of this gesture. Taking the bags and hurrying into the kitchen, he doesn't see the way Victor watches him. Like he's a delightfully complicated puzzle, and one that Victor intends to solve.


	8. The Nine Lives of Yuri Plisetsky

**Summary:** A good friend will be there for you when you need them. A great friend will cross an entire continent to make sure you get laid.

* * *

Victor scrubs his hands over his face and sighs, but when he opens his eyes Yuri Plisetsky is still standing in front of him with crossed arms and a bad attitude. "Yuri-"

"Polecat," Yuri corrects sharply, eyes narrowing.

Another long sigh from Victor. Yuri is wearing a silver-white outfit with a few tasteful fur accents, which really draw the eye to the long white tail lashing irately behind him. "Of course. Polecat." he amends. "What are you doing here?"

"I came here to get you!" Yuri hisses, ears expressively flat against his head and teeth flashing. "The real question is, what are you doing here!"

Victor spreads his hands placatingly. "I am here on a mission of internationally diplomatic vigilantism."

Yuri sneers, rolling his eyes. "That's a long way to say 'trying to get laid'."

Still smiling, Victor brushes some imaginary dust from the sleeve of his costume. "Always so charming, Polecat."

"So? Have you met him?" In spite of himself, there's a note of curiosity in Yuri's voice. Victor isn't the only one who admires their Japanese counterpart-Yuri has often noted his achievements with a tone that almost implies he doesn't think the man is completely incompetent.

Victor immediately makes him regret the question when he gives an infatuated sigh, pressing one hand over his heart. "I have," he answers unnecessarily. "He's even more perfect in person. Did you know," he starts excitedly, his eyes gaining a certain sparkle, "That he has dimples? It's true! You can only see them when he laughs. And he moves almost like a figure skater, so graceful. Oh Yuri-"

"Polecat."

"-he's just wonderful!"

Yuri makes a face. "Sure. Whatever. So now you've met him, you're coming home right?"

"Home?" Victor raises his eyebrows. He hasn't thought much about the end of his trip, though he knows it has to come eventually. He can't leave St. Petersburg in Yuri's claws forever, even if they are razor-sharp. "I'm… not sure. Not yet."

Groaning, Yuri shoves his hands into his hair. "Jesus Christ old man, just jump him already so we can go-"

"Yuri,"

"Polecat!"

"Don't be rude."

"Whatever."

"Are things in St. Petersburg really that desperate?" VIctor asks, and he can't help the slight trepidation in his tone. To be frank he's a little homesick, and he feels guilty for taking off so abruptly.

Yuri lets the silence hang in the air for a long, thoughtful moment. "…No," he finally admits. "But it's a big city. I'm good, but I'm only one person. And you're the reason I got into vigilantism in the first place-"

"-a decision I wholeheartedly discouraged-"

"-so the least you can do is help me pick up the slack!"

The slight flaring of Victor's nostrils was the only outward sign of his irritation. "If it's not urgent," he says, his tone still pleasant, "I won't be coming home just yet. You're more than welcome to stay a while of course, if St. Petersburg can afford it. This city really is charming, and the people are full of surprises!"

The matter closed, Victor turns on his heel and leaps to the next rooftop. The snow freezes just before his feet touch down, allowing him to skate all the way to the next gap. Unable to resist, he flies into a triple toe-loop as he clears it.

"I'll just bet," Yuri seethes darkly.

* * *

That night, Yuuri is surprised by the arrival of another guest at the hot springs. He's young, only fifteen or so, and after introductions are made he realizes that this is Yuri Plisetsky. The boy had been a figure skating prodigy, rising quickly through the junior ranks only to disappear from the world of professional skating after some kind of accident.

Now, looking at the teenager huddled in an oversized hoodie with the hood drawn all the way up, Yuuri wonders about the nature of that accident. An injury maybe, he thinks. Or a personal tragedy. The boy is certainly jumpy, with the ever-moving eyes of someone who is never quite at ease.

Yuuri brings the two Russian guests dinner, and smiles at Yuri as he sets down the bowl of katsudon in front of him. All he gets in response is a slight narrowing of the boy's eyes.

Oh well, he thinks as he slips out of the room. Private grief can be its own kind of healing.


	9. Three's Company

**Summary:** He may be young, but he's ready.

* * *

When Yuuri meets Polecat for the first time, there's no time for formal introductions. One minute he's firing a silver arrow into the trigger finger of a particularly insistent gangster, the next he's whipping around to see a flash of silver and white tackle another would-be assassin into the snow. Polecat springboards gracefully off of the man's stomach before spinning around to land a hard kick to his spine.

Needless to say, he goes down hard and doesn't get back up.

"Thanks," Yuuri manages, blinking down at the groaning mess of a man.

Polecat shrugs, but Yuuri can tell by the pinkish tint on his cheeks that he's prouder than he's letting on. "Don't mention it," he tosses back. Then he's off again, moving so quickly that he almost blurs. His balance is exceptional, lightning-fast reflexes making him an opponent worth taking seriously in spite of his small stature.

"Oh good, you've met." Yuuri turns to see Snowcap, who is watching Polecat tear into the remaining gangsters with something like brotherly pride.

"He has a lot of energy, that's for sure."

Snowcap nods, coming to stand next to Yuuri. One of the gangsters squeals in undignified horror as Polecat drops down on him from above, claws flashing, an unearthly yowl tearing from his throat.

"Very enthusiastic, that's our Polecat."

Yuuri glances up at Snowcap. "Isn't he… a little young, for this life?"

A distant look comes across Snowcap's face, and for a moment Yuuri wonders if he's said something wrong. Then, "I said the same thing, at first. But I think it's good for him. A good outlet. He has a lot to be angry about."

Polecat emerges from a groaning pile of repentant gangsters looking smug, but satisfied. "Hey," he calls, "What are you two dinosaurs gossiping about? Come on, one of these guys had an address on him. I think it's for a drug drop."

Yuuri raises a quizzical eyebrow. "He's sharp."

Snowcap strides forward to clap Polecat on the back, grinning broadly. "So clever, Polecat! A little sleuth!"

The hiss that follows is loud enough to startle some nearby pigeons into terrified flight.


	10. Fancy Meeting You Here

**Summary:** On calm nights, a wayward superhero's feet can lead him in interesting directions.

* * *

Hasetsu isn't always a hotbed of criminal activity. In fact a lot of the time it's pretty quiet, fishermen and shop vendors going about their daily routines, buying and selling and gossiping on the side of the road. Tonight is one of those nights. Peaceful.

Yuuri stretches his arms above his head, silver and black gleaming in the moonlight as he makes his nightly patrol. It's a leisurely patrol tonight, more like a walk across the rooftops, his gaze straying more than once to the vast expanse of ocean just beyond the boardwalk.

Beautiful.

Without really knowing where his feet are leading him, he wanders in the direction of the Ice Castle. It's a familiar spot, and one where he spent more than a few restless nights when he was younger. Tonight he can hear music and, curious, he slips silently through one of the skylights to see who could possibly be practicing at this late hour.

What he sees takes his breath away. It's Victor, eyes closed, gliding across the ice with the kind of desperate grace Yuuri has come to expect from him. His hands, always moving, sweep out gracefully behind him as he turns, spins, moves off in another direction. It's not a routine, Yuuri notes. Victor isn't making any jumps or following any particular choreography. He's just…

Skating.

It's an entrancing sight.

Emboldened by the mask and by Victor's closed eyes, Yuuri moves in for a closer look. He pads, catlike, across the rafters to drop down next to the rink, eyes following Victor's every move. Leaning against the partition, he watches in fascination as Victor sways to the music.

There's a momentary increase in speed, and Yuuri's heart skips a beat as Victor flies into the air. A perfect quadruple flip. He sighs.

Abruptly, Victor's eyes fly open. He stops on a dime, staring wide-eyed at Yuuri. "I- Eros?"

Yuuri swears a blue streak in his head. Perfect. Now Victor thinks he's some kind of voyeur. "I'm… sorry, I heard the music and-"

"No," Victor is quick to assure him, skating quickly to the partition where Yuuri stands. "It's- It's fine. I'm glad. I mean, I've heard so much about you but. It's an honor, to meet you I mean."

Yuuri is certain he's imagining the soft flush on Victor's cheeks. Or maybe it's just the cold, or the exertion of the jump. There could be a million explanations.

"Oh," he manages, blinking, his hands fumbling a little on the partition. "Or, likewise I guess." God, he sounds so stupid. "You're a great skater," he says, just for a change of subject.

He's not imagining it. Victor is positively pink. "Do you think so? I mean. Thanks, is what I meant to say." Victor is definitely blushing. And fumbling over his words. And…

Acting on impulse, Yuuri leans across the partition and smiles. "Really," he says. "I was very impressed." What. The hell. Is he doing. "You looked great."

Victor flushes all the way to the roots of his hair and has to brace one hand on the partition just to keep himself from falling over. "Thanks," he almost squeaks.

Yuuri can't do this. Not in a million years, he doesn't have the guts. But maybe… Maybe Eros does. Maybe Eros can. The mask makes Yuuri brave, and he rests his chin on his hand. The other reaches out, almost casually, and smoothes down a rumpled line on the sleeve of Victor's black t-shirt. "Do you skate here a lot?"

"When I have time…" Victor's tone is distracted, his eyes fixed on the gloved hand sliding across his shoulder.

"Pretty brave of you, to be out and about after dark." Yuuri tugs a bit at the hem of the sleeve before letting go, his hand falling back to the partition. "Considering all the criminal activity lately."

"I'm not worried," Victor tells him, an almost shy smile lighting up his face. "You'll protect me, won't you?"

"Count on it." Yuuri offers him a broad wink, almost fainting at his sudden boldness. "Still, be careful on your way home handsome," he adds. "It can get pretty rough out there."

In the next moment, he's swung himself up into the rafters and disappeared through the same skylight he came in by. As soon as he's out in the open air he collapses onto the roof, wheezing slightly, unable to believe his own daring.

Inside, just a stone's throw away, Victor sags against the partition. What, he thinks dazedly, was that?


	11. One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

**Summary:** You hit on your crush and he totally digs it, but he's pretty lukewarm about your alter-ego. So what's the truth?

* * *

"I don't know how to describe it, Yuri! He was so- He was-" Victor flutters his hands in the air for a moment before collapsing back onto his futon.

"There aren't enough words in Russian or English," Yuri says, slowly, to make sure Victor hears him, "To describe how little I care."

"I just turned around, and there he was! Standing there! With those eyes, and that smile…" Victor trails off, looking blissful in his recollections. Yuri is almost sick on the tatami.

Yuri likes Victor, for all he would never tell him that. The idiot isn't entirely obnoxious one-hundred percent of the time, and in his more shining moments he can even be kind of wonderful. He wouldn't see Victor hurt for all the world, and-though again, he would deny it with his last breath to Victor's face-he figures that Eros would probably have to be some kind of idiot to turn up his nose at the guy.

So obviously, he didn't.

Victor is talking again, and Yuri only tunes back in halfway through another long-winded soliloquy praising Eros' dimples or his ears or his fucking teeth or who knew what else. Demented fanboy. But one thing makes Yuri a little uncomfortable.

Eros put the moves on Victor pretty much immediately, but he didn't so much as bat an eye in Snowcap's direction for months. If Eros only wants a part of Victor, does he deserve to have any of him?

* * *

On the other end of the inn, Yuuri lies on his back and stares vacantly at the ceiling. He's astonished at himself. The events of that night keep replaying themselves over and over in his head, the soft flush on Victor's cheeks and the hitch in his breath when Yuuri's hand traced along his shoulder. The fragile smile that Yuuri never saw until tonight.

Something tugs at his thoughts though, and he can't quite shrug it off. On the one hand, Victor likes Eros! That's great, that's amazing! For Victor to look at him like that, it's more than he ever could have dreamed. On the other hand…

Victor likes Eros. And for all that Eros is a part of Yuuri, he's not all of him.

Yuuri hugs his pillow tightly. He summons up the memory of Victor skating towards him across the ice, and it makes him feel a little better.


	12. Just a Hunk of Burnin Love

**Summary:** These three get along like a house on fire!

* * *

Victor doesn't sweat often, but this house fire is testing him. He blasts another lapping flame with a flurry of snow, smothering it before it can do the same for him.

"Hello?" he calls into the house. "Eros, is there anyone else inside?"

Eros appears at the end of a long hallway, clutching a tea towel over his mouth to keep his lungs clear of the stifling smoke. "I don't think so," he calls back, and starts to make his way toward Victor.

"Are you guys still in here?"

The voice is Yuri's. He's picking his way back into the house, his white costume considerably grayer than it was when they heard the screams and saw the belching smoke an hour ago. They're all tired, bleary-eyed and a little singed now.

But at least it seems they've managed to ferry all the people-and, in Yuri's case, a squalling housecat-out of the wreckage and into the street.

Victor sways a little on his feet. The dry heat is doing unpleasant things to his powers, and he doesn't want to find out what will happen to him if he stays for much longer.

Suddenly Eros is right in front of him, a concerned frown on his face. Eros should never frown, Victor thinks distantly. He doesn't have dimples when he frowns.

"Snowcap?" he says, his voice low, "Are you okay? You look a little unsteady."

"'m fine," Victor says, slurring a little. "You know what else is fine? You are."

Instantly the frown turns into a scowl. "Really? You think this is the moment for that? When we're standing in the middle of a burning building?"

A look of hurt confusion crosses Victor's face. Eros was so nice to him the day before-flirted with him, even. Now he doesn't seem to want the attention. He opens his mouth to ask why, but before he can accidentally out himself Yuri's hand seizes his wrist.

He glances down at the much younger superhero and is surprised to see that he's baring his teeth, his eyes narrowed at Eros.

"He's dehydrated!" Yuri hisses, "If he stays in here much longer he'll collapse, and you want to argue about pick-up lines!"

"He what?" Eros asks, and now it's his turn to look confused.

"No time," Yuri snaps, tugging Victor toward the front door. "This whole place is about to-"

"Watch out!" Eros lunges forward, snatching both of them by the backs of their costumes and dragging them against his chest. The end of an enormous beam, smoking slightly, thuds to the ground where they were standing a moment ago.

Victor realizes-distantly-that it's a load-bearing beam. Probably an important one. Not good.

"Get down!" someone shrieks-Eros or Yuri, he can't tell-far too close to his ear. Then he's being crowded against the floor as the house collapses in on itself

Everything goes black.


	13. Reflections

**Summary:** If you don't know how to move forward, the first step is always to look back.

* * *

 **THREE YEARS AGO, TOKYO**

Yuuri is visiting the city to see Victor Nikiforov to perform when it happens. It's a scuffle in an alley, a couple of big men grabbing at a girl with rough hands, and he doesn't even think before he's running at them, arms waving, yelling all kinds of nonsense just to get their attention. They scatter.

When he reaches her the girl doesn't look scared, exactly. She just watches him with eyes so deeply blue that they're almost purple, a strangely calculating expression on her face. He asks her if she's all right, if she wants him to call anyone, take her anywhere. She shakes her head no.

Then she leans down-she's much taller than he is, he realizes suddenly-and kisses him lightly on the cheek. At first he's just confused (this has never happened to him before), but as he draws back a strange buzzing starts up between his ears. He touches his head, a look of bewilderment crossing his face as he glances up to meet her eyes.

She's smiling, sort of. It's almost apologetic. He doesn't even notice that he's fallen to his knees until her hand is under his head, easing him down to the concrete.

"Sorry," she whispers. "I had to be sure you'd use it well. I had to be certain."

He tries to say, what? But all that comes out is a soft gasp. Then the world goes dark.

When someone shakes him awake at the mouth of the alley and asks him if he's had a little too much to drink, he says yes. What else is he supposed to say? That a strange woman kissed him and he fell asleep?

Two days later he's doing his warm-up stretches and lodges an arrow so deep in the ice that it fries a cooling tube and the whole system short-circuits. The Ice Castle is closed for three weeks and no one can say exactly what's happened. The arrow, of course, disappears before anyone can get a proper look.

* * *

 **TWO YEARS AGO, ST. PETERSBURG**

Another medal. Victor stares down at the light shimmering on its golden surface, his name emblazoned in bold letters across the bottom.

Huh.

Victor stuffs the medal back into his bag. His feet take him in the direction of home more or less on automatic, his suitcase trundling along behind him. He should hail a cab, he knows. It's St. Petersburg after all, and while midwinter is long over the spring thaw has yet to truly take hold. The world is still buried under a thick layer of white snow. But his apartment isn't far from the train station, so he inhales another lungful of icy air and walks.

The road is almost deserted. The sunset is obscured by clouds, but he knows that soon the world will be plunged into thick darkness. It doesn't bother him.

When he reaches the bridge over the river near his house, a man is standing at the apex. His feet are braced on the rail. He jumps.

Not a single thought occurs to Victor between the moment the man topples over the edge and the moment Victor follows him. Crack, splash. The thin ice shatters under the stranger's weight and Victor plummets through the hole.

In water that cold, they have about eight minutes to live. Victor gets them ashore in five. He lays the man out on the bank, hands slapping at his cheeks.

"Are you all right?" he demands, sparing no time for politeness. "Wake up! Open your eyes, look at me-"

The man's eyes open, and there's no trace of confusion or panic in them. He sits up, grabs Victor around the back of his neck, and breathes a puff of arctic air into Victor's lungs.

Suddenly, Victor feels intensely dizzy. He thinks it's hypothermia setting in, and panic seizes his chest. He has to get somewhere warm, he has to-

"It's all right," the man tells him softly, "You'll be all right."

Then he's tumbling to the snow, the white world going black.

When he wakes up-and he's shocked to find that he does-his suitcases are gone. No doubt someone's made an opportunistic grab at the abandoned bags. He walks home in a daze, the Russian night much colder than the evening had been, but even in his wet clothes he isn't troubled by it. He doesn't even think about the gold medal until weeks later.

The irritation he feels at its loss is minor at most, but it freezes the coffee in his cup.

* * *

 **ONE YEAR AGO, ST. PETERSBURG**

Yuri Plisetsky is not visited by a benevolent spirit. No one kisses his cheek, or breathes the tundra into his lungs. Nothing so glamorous.

A kidnapping, on a dark street. Anonymous and random. A concrete facility somewhere underground. They don't know who he is, and if they did they wouldn't care.

Bright lights. Loud sounds. Needles, tests, needles, experiments. He kicks and screams and scratches and bites and they bind his hands when the scratching starts doing serious damage.

And it does. He's changing.

Victor's burgundy mask is the first thing he sees in six months that isn't in grayscale. Strong hands loose his bonds and help him up. They bring him out into the light and, when Victor recognizes the eyes under the tangled mess of blonde hair, back to the arms of his grandfather.

The changes are already irreversible by then, of course. Yuri never learns the name of the organization that stole his life from him. He hopes, in his darkest moments, that he never will.


	14. It Takes a Village

**Summary:** A good city makes a good hero.

* * *

Yuri blinks away the dust and ash as he eases back into consciousness, a racking cough contorting his body. It's immediately followed by intense panic when he realizes that he can't move, his arms and legs completely immobilized by the wreckage of the burned-out building.

He's been restrained like this before. He didn't liked it.

Forcing himself to breathe slowly, he looks around the dark space. It would be an impossible task for anyone else-the light is much too dim to make out shapes, much less faces-but Yuri's night vision is exceptional. He can see Victor, his shoulder pinned under what looks like an avalanche of sheetrock. Eros is stretched across them both, having pressed the other two heroes to the ground and attempted to shield them with his body.

It didn't work.

As good as Yuri's night vision is, it isn't keen enough to tell him what he really wants to know. Is he the lone survivor of the collapse?

Minutes tick by. He lies still, and tries not to wonder how much wreckage they're lying under. Tries not to wonder if the bodies stretched out above and beside his are dead or alive. Tries not to know, with horrible certainty, that it won't matter soon.

Then the wreckage shifts, and Yuri tenses. Has something changed? So far he-and maybe the other two-have been saved by the grace of the beam that fell above them, propping the worst of the wreckage off and away. But if the wood is settling, or if that beam snaps-

Something creaks, and he thinks for sure this is what has happened. He braces himself, closes his eyes tight against whatever might come-

And takes his first proper breath in what feels like hours as the beam above them is lifted free, taking with it most of the weight and a good deal of the rubble.

Yuri blinks his eyes open, casting bewildered eyes up through the gap the beam has left behind. Light streams into the little hollow and a voice bellows,

"I found them! They're here! Careful with the crane, they might be injured!"

A flurry of activity breaks out overhead. It sounds like most of Hasetsu has come to dig out their hero and his companions, and soon the rubble is being shifted off of them piece by agonizing piece. The moment Yuri's arms are free he reaches out toward Victor, patting him frantically on the cheek.

"V- Snowcap, wake up! Come on, open your eyes-"

Someone is freeing his legs, and he doesn't notice until gentle hands take hold of his shoulders and begin to pull him away. He growls, the sound deep and animal, claws digging into Victor's shoulders hard to keep him in place. It has the desired effect. The hands tugging at him let go immediately, and a hushed conversation in Japanese starts up somewhere behind him.

"You're not even hurt," Yuri snaps, and something is making his vision blurry. Not tears. It can't be tears. "You're not even hurt Victor, come on…"

Luckily, none of the people around them seem to speak Russian. Or at least they don't pick out the name. Yuri doesn't have time to care until Eros stirs above him, sucking in a long gasp of air and expelling it in a long coughing fit. He murmurs something in confused Japanese, then opens his eyes and takes in the scene in front of him.

"Oh no," he whispers. "Is he-"

"No," Yuri snarls. "He's- He's passed out or he's faking or-"

"Snowcap," Eros says urgently, pushing himself onto his knees and shuffling forward. A few people behind them sigh in relief at the obvious show of vitality and Eros looks up, his eyes focusing. "Get an ambulance," he bites out urgently. "Get the paramedics, now! He's-"

A soft sigh breezes between Victor's lips and all attention is immediately back on him.

"Wake up," Yuri hisses again, demanding and desperate.

"Please," Eros adds in a soft prayer.

Blue-green eyes open once, twice, and focus slowly on the masked faces staring down at him.

"Y-"

"Polecat," Yuri has the presence of mind to cut him off, almost letting out a delirious laugh in his relief.

"Pole…cat." Victor agrees. His gaze flickers to Eros, and a dazed smile drifts across his face like a summer cloud. "And Eros. Hello, beautiful…"

"What's he saying?" Eros asks urgently, leaning forward to dust the sheetrock off of Victor's arm. His own relief is evident in his shaking hands, and the way his voice wavers when he speaks.

"Nothing," Yuri insists. "He's being gross."

"You look so pretty when you're worried," Victor warbles, and Yuri makes a face.

"He had a lot of good reasons to be worried. We thought you were dead."

Victor frowns. "Wouldn't do that to you," he murmurs, his eyes slipping closed again. "Wouldn…"

Eros and Yuri tense, and only relaxed again when a paramedic drops down next to them and-after a quick once-over-gives them a reassuring smile. "He's all right. Concussion, that's all. A few scuffs and bruises it looks like. Nothing's swelling, so no breaks."

"What'd he say?" Yuri asks, though he's already guessed it's good news by the man's expression.

"He's going to be fine," Eros answers, trembling with relief.

"You'll need to keep an eye on him," the paramedic says. "Give him lots of fluids, make sure his airways aren't restricted. Can one of you do that?"

A look of uncertainty passes over Eros face, but when he explains the problem to Yuri he just nods. "I know his identity," he explains shortly, and ignored Eros' raised eyebrows. "I'll look after him."

It's difficult to convince Eros that he has the situation under control. The man keeps fussing over Victor, pushing his hair out of his eyes and touching his hands. It's weird. He has this desperate, frightened look on his face that Yuri doesn't like seeing there one bit. Finally Yuri manages to shoo him off, but only with the promise that he'll sound the alarm if anything at all goes wrong.

Victor wakes slowly, then all at once. He shoots upright, craning his neck until his gaze lands on Yuri.

"…Polecat," he says, and Yuri puffs out a sigh.

"Come on you ridiculous bastard," he says, looping his arm under Victor's and helping him stumble to his feet, "Let's get you home and into bed."

* * *

Back at the onsen, Yuuri is mad with worry. He wrings his hands, paces, tugged at his hair, does everything short of claw up the walls in his anxiety. Snowcap looked so pale, so still lying there in the rubble. And Polecat is so young, how can he possibly look after him on his-

"We're home," someone bellows from the entryway, and Yuuri peers around the corner. It's Yuri and Victor, he notes. Their clothes are disheveled, and Yuri seems to be supporting Victor with an arm around his waist.

"What happened?" he asks, desperate for something to distract himself with.

"This idiot decided to go drinking in the middle of the day," Yuri grumbles, and pitches to the side as Victor stumbles against him.

"Oh!" Yuuri dives forward, catching Victor's other arm. "Here, uh- Through here, we'd better get him back to his room."

"Thanks," Yuri manages to bite out.

Even with two people, Victor is a task to move. He seems disoriented-so drunk that he's apparently fading in and out of consciousness-and more than once they have to pause as he slumps to his knees between them. Eventually though, they manage to wrestle him into his room and lay him down gently on his futon.

Yuuri sinks back on his heels, wiping his brow with his sleeve. "What on earth possessed him to get this drunk before five o'clock?" he wonders aloud.

"Who knows what goes on in his idiot head?" Yuri answers with a shrug, flopping back onto the tatami. Yuuri notices a dark bruise on his ribs, uncovered where his jacket rides up slightly. It must have happened during the struggle to get Victor back to the onsen, he thinks.

"He's lucky," Yuuri says abruptly, and Yuri cranes his head to blink up at him.

"What?"

Yuuri flushes, but continues. "He's lucky to have you. To look after him."

Yuri stares at him for a moment, then rolls onto his side. "Pff. Whatever."

A soft smile comes to Yuuri's face. "I'll get you both some tea." Climbing to his feet, he leaves the room and makes his way toward the kitchen.

If Polecat is half as attentive to his friends as Yuri is, he thinks, Snowcap is in good hands.


	15. Boy, You Make the Sun Come Out

**Summary:** F is for friends who do stuff together...

* * *

The sun is bright, but the air is cool. Not cold, not the deep January chill that has hung around Hasetsu for so long. Spring is in the air now, subtle and sweet, and Victor pulls so much of it into his lungs that they feel about to burst.

He loves spring, in spite of himself. He isn't at his strongest in the warmer months-using his powers is a bone-deep strain in summer-but he likes these shoulder seasons. The air is crisp and has the bite of life to come.

Yawning widely, he stretches his arms over his head and swings his foot out lazily. He's not on patrol, not as such-patrolling doesn't usually start until around dusk-but he's kitted up. It took a lot of patience and a few different shades of thread to fix the costume, but one doesn't become a world-class figure skater without learning to patch up his own costumes on the fly.

He pauses at the edge of a rooftop and grins when he sees Yuuri on the street below him, smiling patiently as a pair of tourists ask him for directions. He nods a couple times as they stumble over the phrasebook, then answers in English. They look relieved, and the three of them laugh together for a moment before the pair shake his hand and wander off in the direction of his gesturing hand.

"Gladhanding with the public?" Victor asks, dropping down next to him.

Yuuri goes stiff for a moment, then seems to relax all at once. "Snowcap," he says, and Victor is taken aback at the relief in his voice. "I'm glad you're all right. I… heard you were in bad shape."

"Reports of my maiming," Victor says, recovering with a patently silly bow, "Were greatly exaggerated. As you can see, I'm perfectly fine."

Yuuri's smile, he thinks, could give Eros a run for his money. It's broad and sweet, and has the most honest softness about it he's ever seen. It simultaneously delights Victor to see him like this, and concretes his suspicions that Yuuri is in some way frightened of Victor in his civilian persona. Why else would he clam up so much around him?

"I heard a house fell on you."

"I'm not a witch," Victor replies airily. "It takes more than a falling house to kill me."

When Yuuri laughs it lights up the street. "I can see that," he says. Then an idea seems to occur to him, because he straightens. "I'm on my way to the shrine. Would you like to come with me?"

Victor blinks, a little owlishly. Yuuri has never actively sought Victor out for company, and they've been living under the same roof for months. As Snowcap Yuuri's only met him once or twice, but he already feels comfortable enough to invite him to the shrine?

Before he has the chance to second-guess himself, Victor agrees. It seems dishonest, stealing this time with Yuuri when the young man has no idea who he is, but Victor can't bring himself to feel guilty. Not when Yuuri smiles bright enough to knock the sun out of the sky.

"Come on," he says, nodding up the street. "This way. Follow me."

Victor does.

* * *

Some (long-awaited) author's notes! Since this fic is cross-posted on my AO3 and I'm more accustomed to the layout there, I usually just toss up the chapters here and don't add anything. But hey, a change is as good as a rest! I wanted to use this opportunity to answer a few questions and thank a few reviewers for their very sweet words.

 **To the Guest who mentioned wanting to see the supermarket chapter from Victor's perspective:** Your comment actually inspired this chapter! I thought it sounded really interesting, but I didn't want to just rehash the same interaction from another person's POV. Still, I hope this helps you get into Victor's head and see what he sees when he looks at Yuuri.

 **Anonimita:** You're absolutely right. The love-square in this fic was directly inspired by the one in Miraculous Ladybug, which was also the source for Victor's penchant for puns. I couldn't help it, there are too many great ice puns in the world to leave the well un-tapped!

 **Sea and Chaos:** Trust me, I'm just as curious as you are. I have the basic outline figured out, i.e. I know _how_ the reveal is going to happen, but _when_ is a mystery.

 **drkm2000:** Thanks for your reviews! I know the length of the chapters bothers you, and I wish there was more I could do. Unfortunately I'm not much of a marathon writer, and when I stretch the chapters out they tend to get really dry really fast. Every once in a while there will be a more long-winded one, but most of them are probably going to be 300-700 words or so. Also I think Yuri is a little more confident now in Eros' goodwill toward Snowcap, but he's a very protective little brother (son) and he might take some further convincing.

Thanks again to everyone who reviewed. You're what keeps these chapters coming!


	16. The Boy Ain't Charming, But What a Smile

**Summary:** Reconnaissance isn't Yuri Plisetsky's thing. Neither is being charming. Luckily Yuuri learned mothering from the best.

* * *

Yuri is on a mission. He blows a lock of blonde hair out of his eyes, glaring around the kitchen from under the edge of his hood. He doesn't want this mission. In fact, he actively hates this mission. For one thing, it isn't even really a mission. Victor has enlisted him-through cheerful cajoling and some slightly less cheerful blackmailing-to make friends with Yuuri. For some reason. For another, Yuri is pretty sure Victor has only saddled him with this task to ensure that he gets the hot springs to himself.

Bastard.

I need your help Yuri, you're the only one who can do this for me Yuri, this is important Yuri. Bullshit. Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.

"Hey."

Yuuri looks up from his position bent over the stove, raising his brows when he sees Yuri standing hunched in the doorway.

"Yes? Is everything all right?"

The man's glasses are slightly foggy and he's wearing a rumpled apron, one hand invisible inside a large pink oven mitt. It's not a majestic sight.

"Yeah," Yuri answers, and realizes he has no plan extending beyond this point.

Victor "asked" him to do this, he knows, out of some kind of morbid curiosity. He wants to know why Yuuri acts so differently around him when he's in costume versus out of it, and Yuri is mean to be gathering relevant information. But ingratiating himself to people has never been Yuri Plisetsky's strongest suit.

So instead, he just stands there.

Finally, Yuuri shrugs. "Well," he says, "If you're looking for something to do, could you grab me that cutting board? I'm throwing together a stew and I need more vegetables."

Yuri almost bristles, almost barks that he isn't here to work, but Victor's wagging finger appears in his mind's eye and he grinds his teeth together instead. He snatches the cutting board, not quite slamming it down on the counter. "Here."

Dark eyes flicker toward him, then away. There's an odd little smile playing about Yuuri's lips that makes Yuri feel simultaneously condescended to and… approved of. It's a weird feeling. He can't decide if he likes it.

"You could chop these green onions if you want," Yuuri offers, and Yuri realizes it's just that. An offer. Something to do with his hands. If he refuses he knows Yuuri won't insist or even begrudge him, he'll just… do it himself.

"Fine," he huffs. He snatches the green onions, subjecting them to a quick mincing before scraping them expertly into the corner of the cutting board. "What's next?"

Yuuri raises a quizzical eyebrow, but doesn't say anything. He just passes Yuri a handful of potatoes, already washed, and keeps tweaking the stew.

Slowly, Yuri finds himself relaxing. This is good work. Familiar work. Work he knows and understands and even kind of likes. He bobs his head lightly to an imagined rhythm, peeling a carrot over the sink.

"Do you like to cook?"

The question is quiet enough that Yuri could pretend not to hear. He wonders if that's intentional. Like the green onions, an offer with no threat of rebuke if it's refused.

"Yeah," he finds himself answering. "Back in St. Petersburg I cook a lot with my grandpa. He makes pirozhki, and I help with the ingredients."

Yuuri tips the onions and potatoes into the stew. "He's taught you really well. It's clear you know your way around a kitchen."

"He's the best," Yuri says, and goes to work chopping the carrots he just peeled. "He knows everything about cooking and baking, but he never minded me slowing him down when I was little." He pauses for a moment, and suddenly there's a little smile playing about his lips. "Once I even fell in one of the big bags of flour he uses at the bakery. I was covered from head to toe. Ruined the flour."

Yuuri doesn't look up. Doesn't meet his eyes. Lets him have his privacy in the memory. After a long, soft moment he says, "You must respect him a lot."

"Yeah well," Yuri grumbles, flushing when he realizes he's let himself wander down memory lane a little further than usual. "He's a good man."

They work together quietly after that, but Yuri finds that he isn't self-conscious about his little slip. Why shouldn't Yuuri know that he respects his grandfather? That's hardly a trade secret. Besides, it's nice. Telling someone. It makes the past-when life was simpler, and he had a future ahead of him-feel a little closer.

He doesn't realize until much, much later that he didn't gather any information about Yuuri at all.


	17. Interlude

**Summary:** Destiny writes notes in a symphony we must choose to play.

* * *

Heroes of love and ice are not rare exactly, and they are not the only heroes destiny employs to keep the world turning smoothly. In the grand scope such heroes can even be called common. They crop up every now and then, chosen by avatars of fate and given marvelous gifts.

Some flourish. Some don't. Destiny plants many seeds, and waits to see which will grow.

They are always drawn to each other, these heroes. Stronger together than apart. Sometimes that draw is romantic, sometimes friendly. Occasionally it gives birth to rivalries that shake the stars, but whatever their nature these heroes always leave their mark on history.

Good marks. Bad marks. All the same, in the end. No one chooses how they are remembered. Buried under centuries of propaganda, Cleopatra clutches an asp in one trembling hand.

Not all heroes have a grand destiny. A great evil to fight, a great obstacle to overcome. Some are put in place to fight small evils, and right small wrongs. To be a force for good. To give the world hope.

Ice and love. The world turns.

* * *

AN: Sorry for the appallingly short chapter, but since I'm dead tired today I thought I'd post a little drabblet I typed up early on in the brainstorming process for this fic. Tomorrow we'll be back to your regularly-scheduled super-shenanigans, I promise!


	18. I Like Your Conversation

**Summary:** Opening up to people isn't always easy. Sometimes you can wish it was a little harder.

* * *

Victor runs his hands over the shingles. They aren't warm exactly, but they're warmer than the night air. A little bit of the day's bright sunshine has curled up inside them like a lethargic cat, and the difference feels nice under his gloved palm.

"Ice evening."

He glances up, both eyebrows jumping so high they almost disappear under his hair. He blinks at Eros. "…You hate my ice puns," he ventures, tone suspicious.

Shrugging, Eros settles on the rooftop beside him and wraps long arms around one bent knee. "They're growing on me, I guess."

A Cheshire Cat grin breaks out on Victor's face. "I'd like to grow on you."

Eros laughs. "I bet you would. Like a fungus."

Victor covers his real disappointment with a dramatic swoon, flopping back onto the shingles with one wrist flung across his forehead. "Ah! I am slain by unrequited love!"

Another laugh, fond this time, and Eros shoves him playfully. "Get up you idiot, or someone's going to think I really did kill you."

Popping back up like a jack-in-the-box, Victor swings his feet a bit against the eaves of the building. The gutters make a soft noise of complaint, which he ignores. The soft lights of Hasetsu dot the night, and if he looks at it right this is almost romantic.

"I think this city is my favorite place," someone says. It takes Victor a moment to recognize his own voice.

"Mine too," Eros murmurs. The expression on his face is distant, and Victor wonders for the thousandth time about the boy behind the black mask. Was he born in Hasetsu? Has he traveled, seen the world? If he has, did he do it alone?

Victor is pretty sure that Eros isn't married. He's never mentioned a wife or a husband, and doesn't seem to need to return home at any particular time. But Victor has suspected more than once that Eros has someone. A girlfriend, a boyfriend. Why wouldn't he? He's the most beautiful man Victor has ever met, confident and powerful, full of an easy grace that enchants everyone he comes across.

He's a catch, and Victor keeps desperately throwing out nets and praying that the only fish he wants is still in the water.

"Have you traveled much?" he asks, just to drown out his own thoughts.

Eros looks at him askance, but shrugs. "A little. Not much lately. I've been all over Japan, and to Europe once or twice. I went to school in America."

"America?" It's Victor's turn to look surprised. It's more personal information than Eros usually shares with him.

Eros shrugs. "It wasn't the worst. I made some friends there, learned a lot. But then, well. I got my powers on a visit home, and had to drop out. Couldn't keep up with my studies and figure myself out at the same time, you know?"

Victor grimaces. "Yeah. I know how that feels. I had to stop, uh…" He waves his hand vaguely in the air. Eros has made it pretty clear that the more specific details of his life are unwelcome topics. As much as Victor would be happy to share his own secret identity, the line between these lives and their civilian ones is set in stone. "I had to. Take a break, from my profession."

"No need to be so vague," Eros says with a laugh. "Unless you did something really out there for a living, there's pretty much no chance of me figuring out who you are just from that."

"Ah. Ha, yeah." Victor sucks in his cheeks and taps out a rhythm on the shingles.

Eros narrows his eyes. "…You're not some kind of celebrity, are you? An actor or something?"

"No!" Victor says, a little too loudly. "No. I'm not an actor."

"…Huh." Eros smirks. "You're sure dramatic enough."

Victor puffs out a breath, looking frantically for a change of subject. "…Say, have you been to the shrine near here?" he asks suddenly. "A… A friend of mine took me the other day. It's really nice, we should go sometime."

The strangest look crosses Eros' face, but he smiles at Victor. "Yeah," he says quietly. "We should. That sounds like fun."

They stay like that, talking quietly about nothing important, until the sound of breaking glass sends the peaceful night skittering in pieces to the pavement.


	19. My Hero

**Summary:** Yuri isn't quite scarred for life enough.

* * *

A crowd, it turns out, is not the ideal place to be when the mall is held hostage by four gunmen and one self-aggrandized lunatic who thinks he's some kind of kingpin. Victor scowls at him from somewhere in the middle of the crowd, all of whom have been given very clear orders so sit and remain sitting for the duration of police negotiations. The man is wearing a purple suit for fuck's sake, like some kind of bargain-bin Joker.

It's not the first time Victor's encountered a supervillain-wannabe, and it probably won't be the last. It is, however, the first time he's had to endure it as a civilian.

"You!" snarls one particularly enthusiastic stooge. "Get your head down. You stupid or something?"

Victor widens his eyes fearfully and responds in Russian. "You smell like a retired dumpster, and I don't like your tie."

The man blinks at him for a moment, then glances at his associate. "What should I do? He's German or something, I don't think he understands."

The man in the purple suit glances over to see what the commotion is, and his eyebrows shoot up. "He's not German, you idiot! He's Russian. That's Victor Nikiforov, he won an Olympic medal for…" The man hesitates, clearly drawing a blank. "For something. Bring him over here!"

Before he has the chance to object, Victor is hauled to his feet by the back of his (very expensive) coat and deposited at the feet of the self-styled villain. He does his best to look intimidated. It isn't easy.

"I bet," the man purrs, "The police would pay a fortune to get this one back safe and sound."

And that's how Victor Nikiforov ends up standing in the window on the fifth story, a gun pressed low on his spine and police spotlights illuminating his face.

Suddenly it's much easier to look nervous. For all Victor is superhuman, he can't fly. He can't heal a shattered spine or a fractured skull. If the man fires, or he falls, he will be very dead very fast. No amount of ice can prevent that. Victor feels the urge to close his eyes, to blot out the chaos around him, but he ignores it. If he shuts his eyes, he's bound to miss the crucial moment. The opportunity to escape that's sure to come.

It doesn't.

Negotiations are agonizingly slow. Hours pass. If Victor didn't know better he'd assume that the police are being intentionally obtuse, but that can't… be…

Dark eyes. Black mask. An expression so furious it could set ice on fire.

Eros drops out of the ventilation shaft like a vengeful spirit, Yuri right behind him. Before the kingpin with his gun to Victor's back can so much as threaten to shoot he's on the ground, arm broken, howling as Eros stands over him with a silver arrow drawn to fire.

It's aimed directly at the criminal's heart.

Victor is distracted by Yuri, who is casting him furious glances between vicious punches and kicks to the other gunmen. There are two here, the other two stationed with the rest of the hostages below.

"These two are down," Yuri barks. "I'm going after the others. Keep an eye on- on the civilian!"

Victor's eyes flash back to Eros, whose arrow is lodged deep in the linoleum an inch to the right of the kingpin's ear. The man under him is unconscious, scared into a dead faint. "Go," Eros bites out, casting the unresponsive man a revolted look before turning his piercing gaze on Victor.

Yuri dashes away, and Victor is left alone with Eros and three unconscious gunmen. For a long, tense moment, nothing happens.

"Thanks," Victor finally manages, a little shaken in spite of himself. His knees give a little, and in an instant Eros is at his side. Strong hands catch his elbows, keeping him upright and propping him deftly against the sheetrock of the wall behind him. Victor has already recovered from his moment of weakness, but he doesn't bother pointing that out.

"Are you all right?" Eros asks, one hand flickering up to a purpling bruise on Victor's jaw. "I'm sorry we took so long. We had to be careful."

"I'm fine." Eros' fingers are warm against Victor's cheek, and he leans into the touch without thinking. "And really, really grateful."

Eros goes very still suddenly, and then he's smirking a little. "Most people come to Hasetsu for a nice quiet vacation," he murmurs. "Sorry yours isn't going exactly as planned."

"Oh, I don't know," Victor replies easily. "Could be worse. This incredibly handsome superhero rescued me, for one thing. And he's kind of got me up against a wall, which I don't really mind."

Blinking as though he's only just noticed their intimate position, Eros flushes a little. But he doesn't pull away. "Is that so?" His voice is carefully even. "And how are you going to pay him back for saving your life?"

A little thrill goes through Victor, and he gathers his courage. Sliding one hand around the back of Eros' head, he tilts his own forward slightly.

"Like this," Victor breathes against Eros' lips. Then he closes the distance between them and kisses his hero as hard as he dares.

Eros' hesitation lasts less than a second. In the next breath he's pushing back, hands caging Victor against the wall as he returns the kiss eagerly. It's good-better than Victor could have hoped, passionate and demanding and perfect. He thinks he swoons a little, but he can't be sure because Eros has taken his weight completely. Then Eros shoves a hand into his hair and he moans.

"Aw, gross! Save it for the retirement home!"

They jump apart, Victor stumbling a bit as he regains his feet. He can feel the heat on his own cheeks and knows Eros must be bright red too, because the back of his neck is pink all the way past the collar of his costume. Victor would pay money to find out how far the flush goes.

Yuri is standing in the hall, his expression both horrified and disgusted. He points an accusing finger at the pair of them. "Don't look at me! Don't even breathe on me! If being fucking nasty is contagious I don't want to catch it."

Then he stalks over to the open window, sticking his head out to glare down at the police and media below. "Go home!" he bellows, surprisingly loud for such a slight boy. "Nothin' to see here!"

He yanks his head back in as the cameras start flashing and stomps over to the door. "Come on, Eros. They're not gonna leave until we go answer some questions, so if you can pry your meaty hands off this senior citizen we gotta go."

Eros starts after him, still very pink, and Victor thinks he hears something about being polite when civilians are present but it's immediately drowned out by Yuri's accusations of hypocrisy. Then they're gone.

Victor is dizzy. He thinks he has a right to be. After all, he just spent a few very pleasant minutes being kissed senseless by Eros himself.

Oh, god. He makes a little sound low in his chest, and sways a bit. He'll have to check with Yuri later to make sure it wasn't a dream, but right now he's more worried about floating away. His feet barely touch the ground as he slips out of the building, avoiding the police and the paparazzi with practiced ease. He walks on clouds all the way back to the onsen.

* * *

 **Guest:** I'm glad you liked the chapter! It was really fun to write and I kept hoping it was what you were looking for.

 **Sea and Chaos:** I think for now I prefer responding like this, it gives me space to respond to a few reviews at once and answer questions somewhere everyone can read them. Also sorry if the last chapter seemed like a cliffhanger, I think there was supposed to be another paragraph that was them just being like "well I guess it's time to deal with shit and be superheroes" but it got lost in the shuffle somewhere.

 **drkm2000:** Sorry to disappoint by not covering the shrine visit! Maybe I'll go back and write it up in the future, but for now I think I need to keep jumping around or I'm worried I'll lose momentum. I'm so glad you're enjoying the fic, and so grateful for your kindness and support!

 **Anonimita:** Thanks! Your wish is my command, re: Eros and Victor.

 **KH freak 813:** Thanks for being so understanding. I hope you liked this chapter!

 **Anon:** Aw, shucks! I'm having a lot of fun doing it.


	20. Best Laid Plans

**Summary:** You have to be lucky every time. The rest of the world only has to be lucky once.

* * *

Yuuri barely makes it home, he's so completely overwhelmed by the events of the day. He changes in an alley, noting distantly the tear on his sleeve where a bullet grazed him. Then he must walk home, because he's suddenly standing in his bedroom. He closes the door, turns the lock, and for a moment he just loiters there like an aimless cloud.

Right. Task. Costume. He pulls the glittery spandex out of his bag and locates the tear.

He kissed Victor Nikiforov.

Needle. Thread. He sits down on the bed and turns the sleeve inside-out, working the material until it sits evenly under his hands.

He kissed Victor Nikiforov.

Small stitches, tight, so they won't tear when the material stretches.

He kissed Victor Nikiforov...

The universe, as it happens, is the most wonderfully and inexplicably chaotic place. A butterfly flaps its wings in Texas, and Egypt is hit by an unprecedented hurricane. The two incidents are unrelated in every sense, obviously, but the fact that they happen-that anything happens at all-is proof positive of the random and bizarre nature of chance. No scheme, no dream, no regime can stand against pure, dumb, inevitable luck.

The handle on Yuuri's door is a little sticky because his sister put gum in the keyhole when she was six. Usually he double-checks it, but the bliss of kissing Victor is still thick in his mind. So when Yuri barrels upstairs to demand dinner, the door swings open on the first knock.

And there's Yuuri, perched on the edge of the bed and holding a length of rumpled fabric and a needle and thread. Not too incriminating, really. Spandex, when twisted up and wrinkled, can be anything. Yuuri very carefully doesn't panic.

"Yuri," he says, a little tense. "Is there something I can do for you?"

The boy is standing on the threshold, white as a sheet, staring at him as though he's sprouted an extra head. He doesn't answer.

"…Yuri?"

Yuri opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. Takes a deep breath.

He steps slowly into the room and shuts the door behind him.

Yuuri's starting to get a little nervous now. He glances down at the material in his hands, but it's completely ambiguous. "Yuri, I don't know what-"

"Your face," Yuri hisses, and the silence in the room is completely deafening.

Very slowly, Yuuri reaches up to touch his face. He prays to feel glasses. He doesn't.

Instead, his fingertips brush the thick material of a mask.

* * *

 **KH freak 813:** I'm glad!  
 **Guest:** Those are my two favorite combinations. One because it's totally unpretentious and chill, and the other because there's mutual attraction. If only they'd wise up and combine the two!  
 **flour-chan xXx SSS:** I do my best! I'm glad you liked it.  
 **drkm2000:** I imagine figure skaters are no strangers to a mirror and some foundation, so I'm not too worried. Also, check it out! You were right on the money.  
 **Sea and Chaos:** Someone did discover a secret identity, but I don't think it was the someone you were hoping for lol.  
 **prankster 105:** Everybody needs a superhero AU imho.  
 **Guest:** Right? It was a blast to write that chapter.


	21. Trust is Not a Four-Letter Word

**Summary:** In which Yuri Plisetsky finally knows everything the audience does, and hates it.

* * *

"I can explain!"

Yuri wheels around to face the door, his eyes still wide and head reeling. Is he having a stroke? Maybe he's having a stroke.

"I can- It's not what you-"

"Shut up," he hisses, hands snapping up to massage his temples. What the fuck. What the actual-

Puzzle pieces start slotting into place. Convenient disappearances, Yuuri's calm in dangerous situations, all kinds of little clues. How could he have missed it? How could he…

His train of thought comes to a dead stop, completely derailed by the brightly-colored poster on the back of Yuuri's door. It's Victor, costume glittering, long silver hair catching the light as he sweeps across the ice. Oh fuck. Oh, fuck. This is so much more messed up than either of them know.

"He- You-" Yuri scrubs his hands over his face and lets out a strangled noise. "And you're him! And you- with Victor-"

"Yuri," the voice coming from behind him is soft and pleading. "Please, I'm begging you not to tell anyone. If the public found out…"

Yuri turns around slowly, but closes his eyes when he's confronted with Yuuri's distraught face. He can't even look at him. "Just be quiet," he grinds out, pinching the bridge of his nose and wishing fervently that he'd just gone out for noodles. He has enough secrets without adding this one to the stack.

He takes a deep breath and opens his eyes. "You kissed Victor."

Yuuri flushes bright red. Now it's his turn to avoid eye contact. "You, um. Already know about that?"

"There were like eight news vans outside. It's not exactly a national secret." Not that Yuri needs to wait around for the evening press release.

They regard each other for a moment in uncomfortable silence.

Finally, Yuuri opens his mouth. "I am so-"

"Do not. Say. Anything." Yuri is pointing a trembling finger at him. At Yuuri. At fucking Eros. "This is so fucked up. You don't even- I can't talk about this. You have to tell him."

"No!" Yuuri looks horrified. "God Yuri, no, I could never! He'd be so-" His breath hitches, and Yuri realizes with a sense of dawning horror that he's on the verge of tears. "He'd be so disappointed."

Yuri thinks back to all his conversations with Victor about the quiet Japanese man who works at his family's onsen. His admiration and respect and burning curiosity. His sorrow at the way they never seem able to really talk in his civilian persona.

"Trust me," he says, teeth grinding in frustration, "He wouldn't."

"He thinks I'm some kind of clumsy idiot."

"You are some kind of clumsy idiot."

"I know, but-"

"Just," Yuri cuts him off, "Just tell him. Come clean."

Yuuri shakes his head hard, lowering his gaze to the floor. His shoulders are shaking. Yuri tries very hard not to scream. Succeeds, barely.

"Please," Yuuri says again, his voice soft and trembling. "Please, keep my secret. I'm begging you."

A strangled sound, like a broken garbage disposal, escapes Yuri's throat. For a moment he considers just dragging Yuuri downstairs and flinging him at Victor's feet, but he manages to quell the impulse.

"…Fine."

Yuuri's head shoots up, and the wetness on his cheeks is like a slap to the face for Yuri. "Really?"

"Yeah. Whatever. It's none of my business anyway."

"Thank you!" Yuuri jumps to his feet and for a moment Yuri worries he's about to be hugged, but the older man holds himself in check. "Thank you. I really- I'm so grateful Yuri, I-"

Yuri flings his hands up in front of him as though he can physically stop the onslaught of gratitude. "Shut up! Shut up, I don't care! Today never happened." He turns around and yanks the door open, desperate for an avenue of escape.

"Yuri?"

He freezes in the doorway, casting a narrow-eyed look over his shoulder.

"You're a good friend."

Yuri's answer is unintelligible, even to himself. He steps out into the hall and tugs the door closed behind him, then leans against it just to be sure it's really latched this time. He stays like that for a long moment, staring up at the hallway ceiling.

So. Yuuri has a crush on Victor, but Victor is Snowcap. And Snowcap has a crush on Eros, but Eros is Yuuri. And neither of them know. But Yuri knows. Yuri knows everything. And he's been sworn to secrecy by both sides.

…Fuck.

* * *

 **A/N:** A huge thank you to Sachiel Angelo, drkm2000, KH freak 813, TheLostPevensie, Fashioningcosplay, The Blood Cloak, slambiel, Sea and Chaos, animelove22, and my three Guests for your wonderful reviews! Usually I would respond individually, but today there are so many of you I'm overwhelmed in the best possible way. As always, if you have any questions that won't spoil the story or aren't answered in the next chapter I'd be happy to answer them here in the notes!


	22. Yuuri on Ice

**Summary:** Sometimes a genetically mutated catboy's gotta do what a genetically mutated catboy's gotta do.

* * *

When Victor comes down the stairs, Yuri is already hunched over one of the low tables in the dining room. His hair is pulled back, a leopard-print scrunchy keeping it out of his face as he taps furiously at his phone. It's impossible to tell, with Yuri, whether he's texting a friend or someone he wants to viciously murder.

If it weren't for the fact that Victor's phone isn't vibrating, he might assume it was both.

"Good morning, Yuri!"

He gets a grunt in reply, which is more than he expected but less than he hoped for.

"Not so much as a friendly word for the father who loves and nurtures y-"

"You're not my dad."

"So cruel!" Victor flops down on the other side of the table. "I'm putting you up for adoption."

"I wish."

Victor sobers slightly, sitting up a little straighter. "Listen Yuri, about the other day…"

"If I wanted to talk about it you'd know. Somebody would've told you about the flying pigs."

"It's healthy to discuss-"

"I could give a shit whose throat you stick your paleolithic tongue down."

Victor groans, letting his head thunk against the table. Having a sincere conversation with Yuri is about as easy as pulling a crocodile's sore tooth, and almost as dangerous. "If I buy you an ice cream, will you talk about your feelings?"

"I'm not five. You can't bribe me with fucking ice cream."

Another groan, this one more sustained. They lapse into unhappy silence.

"You should go skating today."

The suggestion comes out of nowhere, and Victor blinks owlishly for a moment before raising his head. "Why?"

"You haven't gone in like a week, you'll get rusty."

Victor smiles hopefully. "Concerned about my career, hm? Worried I'm losing my edge?"

Yuri bristles. "Fuck you! I just don't want you forgetting your only marketable skill. If you age out of vigilantism and you're suddenly unemployed I'm not paying to put you in a damn home."

"So cruel to your aging father-"

The next five minutes are a blur, but when they're over Victor is standing outside with his skate bag bundled in his arms. He stares over his shoulder to the onsen door, which is slamming decisively shut. He thinks he hears furious cursing from the other side.

"Language!"

The swearing cuts off, and the fading of stomping footsteps informs Victor that Yuri has completely abandoned him.

He glances down at the bag in his arms and considers going back inside, but Yuri has a point. He's been so distracted by the combination of being Snowcap and being a damsel in distress that he hasn't had much time for being Victor Nikiforov. Maybe it's time to hit the ice.

It doesn't take long to walk to Hasetsu Ice Castle, and it's a nice stroll. The sun is out and even if it's still a bit chilly the breeze off the ocean is fresh and clean. A few people greet Victor. Some even stop to chat, and he indulges them. After all, he's in no particular hurry.

When he arrives at the rink the morning is still young, and he does his stretching outside in the sunshine before going in. The rink isn't technically open yet, but the young lady who works there is usually very accommodating.

She waves him through with a smile and explains that the rink will be closed today. Some kind of issue with the lights technically constitutes a safety issue, she says, though he's welcome to skate at his own risk as a non-paying customer. He agrees easily enough. A dim rink can hardly be more dangerous than being shot at by bank robbers.

Before he even gets his skates on Victor realizes that he isn't alone. He can hear blades sliding against the ice, and he allows himself a moment's irritation. Even so he doesn't give his rinkmate more than a passing glance as he laces up his skates and steps out onto the ice.

Instantly, he feels more at-ease. It's like he's been submerged in a pool, weightless, and somewhere inside of him a knot unties itself. The man skating on the other side of the rink is playing music, something melancholy and sweet, and Victor closes his eyes as he lets it wash over him.

Time passes. Victor warms up, performs a few minor flips. His rinkmate is still ignoring him, but Victor catches himself admiring the way he moves. It's intensely musical, rhythmic, and vaguely familiar. A few technical faults, but this man is clearly a professional. Intrigued in spite of himself, Victor skates a little closer. He's about halfway down the rink when the man launches himself off of the ice and into a near-perfect quadruple salchow.

Victor's skates squeak as he stops dead. This routine isn't just familiar, it's…

It's his.

Then the skater's footwork takes him in a graceful turn and Yuuri Katsuki freezes in place, staring wide-eyed at Victor across twenty feet of empty ice.

They stand like statues for what must be a long time, breath turning to vapor. Then Victor breaks the silence. "I… didn't know you skated."

Yuuri doesn't seem to know what to do with his hands. "I don't. Or, I did. Just not, um. Anymore." He meets Victor's eyes and goes red instantly. "I'm sorry, you probably want the rink to yourself. I'll just-"

"No," Victor says urgently, hand flying out as though he could stop Yuuri from here. "I don't mind. In fact, I was enjoying your routine."

The flush darkens. "I know I can't do it very well. I'm sorry if I offended you."

"Not at all," Victor answers earnestly, and he can't help his smile. "It was delightfully unpretentious. Who is your coach?"

"I don't have one," Yuuri supplies. "Not anymore. I quit, years ago."

"A bitter loss to the world of professional skating."

"Not really…"

Victor feels a pang in his chest, and thinks that if it weren't for his life as Snowcap he'd drag Yuuri back into competitive skating kicking and screaming. There's so much potential in him, in the way he moves and the way he holds himself. But if he urged him on now, he'd only be making a hypocrite of himself.

"Well," he says finally, "I'm sure you had your reasons."

For a moment they're both lost to introspection. Then, unexpectedly, Yuuri speaks up. "I can change the music, if you'd like. Something a little faster, more your speed?"

Victor shakes his head. "Not at all. I was actually admiring the music earlier. It's a little unpolished, but the melody's beautiful. What's it called?"

Yuuri shrugs, looking a little embarrassed. "It doesn't really have a title, I guess? A student wrote it for me, but I never set a routine to it."

"Well it's lovely."

The other skater wobbles a little on his skates, and Victor moves closer to steady him. "You all right?"

"Fine," he squeaks. "Just fine. Sorry."

Victor laughs. "You've got to stop apologizing to me, or I'll think you've actually done something wrong. Other than interrupt that perfectly beautiful routine just to chat with me."

This startles a laugh out of Yuuri, who covers his mouth with his hand and looks amused and surprised at the same time. It feels a little like victory. "I'm kind of embarrassed skating it in front of you to be honest."

Victor nods his head toward the partition. "Let's break for some water then," he suggests. "I'm parched."

Yuuri agrees, and Victor retrieves little plastic cups of water from the cooler. They lean against the partition, plastic cups in hand, and sip their water side-by-side.

"If you don't mind," Yuuri says slowly, after a long-but surprisingly comfortable-silence, "Can I ask why you put a quad right at the beginning of that routine? Usually you save them."

Victor answers readily enough. "Yakov's idea," he explains. "Something about securing baseline points before…" He frowns, then. "I can't remember what he said after that. I tuned him out a lot." When he returns his gaze to Yuuri it's just in time to catch the tail end of a raised eyebrow. "What?" he demands.

"Well. I mean, you were paying the man how much? And he's an expert, and you just tuned him out?"

Victor snorts. "If I listened to everything that man told me I'd be a sack of nerves held together by nothing but caffeine and a validation addiction."

"So, a professional figure skater?"

"Exactly." They both laugh.

High in the rafters, a white tail disappears through an open skylight.

* * *

 **A/N:** My enthusiastic thanks to dkrm2000, bloSSomO.o, Sea and Chaos, Sachiel Angelo, Makayla, and my three Guests for your words of encouragement and curiosity!


	23. Apricot Trees

**Summary:** Yuri Plisetsky isn't being paid enough. He isn't being paid at all, in fact.

* * *

And just like that, they have a routine. Once a week, without fail, crime-fighting falls into Polecat's capable claws while Yuuri and Victor take to the ice. It's like a fairy tale, all intrigue and romance, and every single Wednesday morning Yuuri Katsuki gets to play Cinderella.

Yuri Plisetsky, on the other hand, is in hell.

"Yuri, he's such a talented skater. Why did he quit?"

"Yuri, what if he only skates with me because there's no one else around?"

"Yuri, do you think Eros regrets kissing me?"

"Yuri, do you think Victor regrets kissing me?"

"Yuri, does he-"

"Yuri, do you-"

"Yuri-"

"Yuri-"

It's like idiot in stereo.

"Yuri, where are you going?"

"OUT!"

The door of the onsen slams shut behind him hard enough to shake the frame.

For the first few hours he just stalks through empty streets, headphones jammed over his ears and eyes firmly glued to the pavement. They're adults for fuck's sake, he thinks bitterly, scowling down at his own shoes. They're supposed to sort out their own disgusting romantic problems, not leave leave them in the hands of a minor. Someone who can't even legally drink to forget that the only two people he even sort-of tolerates couldn't find their own asses with a map, a compass, and a set of very explicit instructions.

His steps slow slightly when he recalls that even he didn't work out who Eros was until the proof was standing right in front of him. But that's different, right? He's not ostensibly in love with either of them. They should know just by their… eyes, or heartbeats, or some soppy bullshit like that. It should be obvious.

A scream tears Yuri out of his reverie, and he instinctively bolts toward the sound. No gunfire. A knifeman? Or maybe a silencer-

He rounds the corner. No guns, no knives. One little girl, maybe six years old, is lying in a heap at the base of a tree, scowling up into the branches. Yuri glances around for the cause of her distress, and almost turns around when he sees a small white cat clinging to an overhanging bough of the tree.

Great. A classic.

"Hey," he snaps, poking the girl's shoulder. She whips around to stare up at him, eyes wet but narrow. "That your cat?"

"Yeah. So?" Right. Okay.

Yuri doesn't bother to change outfits. Yuri Plisetsky might not be able to fight crime, but Polecat would be serious overkill for this job. Instead he shimmies up the tree, his claws sliding out through the knit on his black gloves to grip the bark. It only takes maybe two minutes to reach the cat.

"Don't freak her out!" the girl orders from below, and Yuri grinds his teeth together.

The little animal is petrified, trembling slightly as it holds on for dear life. When Yuri shimmies out onto the branch though, its posture changes. It loosens its grip on the branch, sits up, tilts its head to one side.

"Good kitty," Yuri says dryly. "You know what I am, don't you?" He picks the cat up, and it purrs fitfully against his chest. The purring only stops for a moment when he releases the branch with his knees, tumbling gracefully out of the tree to land on his feet in front of the waiting girl.

"Here," he says briefly, depositing the cat in her outstretched arms.

She snatches it up, hugging the animal to her skinny chest and checking him gingerly for damage. "She's not hurt, is she? You're in so much trouble if she's hurt!"

"She's not hurt," Yuri answers, rolling his eyes.

Finally the girl seems to relax. She brushes some of the leaves off of her dress-clearly she tried climbing up herself before he arrived. "Well. In that case, thanks Polecat."

"Don't mention it," Yuri answers without thinking, then nearly chokes on his own tongue. "P- What?"

The girl taps the crown of her head.

Yuri's hand snaps up. The tumble out of the tree must have dislodged his headphones, because his hood has slid off on one side to reveal a flicking white ear. He yanks it back up, eyes flashing around the deserted street. "No one will believe you," he growls. "Even if you tell."

Shrugging, the little girl tucks her cat into her bag. It pokes its head out to regard Yuri curiously. "I don't care," she tells him. "Anzu has an extra claw on each foot. She's a pterodactyl."

"Polydactyl," Yuri corrects automatically.

"Everybody's different. But Anzu is still my friend."

Then, just like that, the girl starts off down the street. Yuri stares after her until she rounds the corner.

…Huh.

That night, he invites Yuuri to eat dinner with him and Victor. They talk and laugh and generally have a pretty wonderful time, which surprises no one more than Yuri himself. Of course halfway through the evening they hear sirens.

Each of them makes his individual excuses. Early night, dishes to wash, can't stand to look at your idiot faces for another second.

Ten minutes later they're together again, crouched on the roof of a bank.

"Seven hostiles and three hostages."

"Pretty cold customers, huh?"

"Better hope you grandmas can keep up!"

* * *

 **A/N:** A break from your regularly-scheduled Victuuri drama to bring you Yuri Plisetsky: Bad With Children.

Thank you so much to slambiel, Sachiel Angelo, Sea and Chaos, KH freak 813, TheLostPevensie, DeliriaXHeart, and my three Guests. I was absolutely delighted to receive your reviews, and I appreciate them more than you know.


	24. Shall We Dance?

**Summary:** The Box Step is a basic dance step. It is used in a number of American Style ballroom dances: rumba, waltz, bronze-level foxtrot. While it can be performed individually, it is usually done with a partner.

It is named after the pattern it creates on the floor, which is that of a square.

* * *

Eros and Snowcap share a picnic Eros made on the roof of a burned-out gym. The food is familiar and delicious, homey, and there's plenty of it.

They talk about the nature of power and responsibility, they talk about loyalty to home and family, they talk about trust.

"I've never had anyone I could talk to about this stuff. I guess it's different for you, since you have Polecat."

"It is different, but not like you think. There are thoughts that I keep from him. To protect him. I don't want him to worry about me."

"Oh, but it's all right if I worry about you?"

"Only if I can worry about you too."

* * *

Yuuri and Snowcap meet for ice cream on a crowded street, ignoring the eyes of the crowd as Snowcap settles burgundy spandex into a faded pink plastic chair.

It's too cold out for ice cream, but Yuuri is bundled up in a coat and scarf. His cheeks are as pink as the plastic chairs and he laughs at every terrible joke Snowcap makes, offering a few of his own in return.

"You should let me introduce you to some of my friends. I bet they'd love to meet the hero of Hasetsu."

"Eros is the hero of Hasetsu, but if they don't mind meeting a second-rater that sounds nice. I don't have a lot of friends here."

"You're not a second-rater. And you have me."

"I do, don't I."

* * *

Eros and Victor bump into each other a hundred times. They kiss behind buildings and in empty parking lots, under awnings in the rain and trees in the sunshine. It's always needy, and passionate, and far too brief.

They feel like liars and traitors every time, but the rewards are too sweet to avoid the crime entirely. So they do it again. And again. And again.

"I shouldn't be doing this. You're a civilian, this could put you in danger."

"I'm a celebrity. This could ruin your reputation."

"It's worth it."

"For me, too."

* * *

Yuuri and Victor skate. Every single week, the ice takes their weight and all of their problems and they fly across it like shooting stars. Victor has taken to offering Yuuri pointers and advice, and Yuuri devours them enthusiastically. Even without a season to compete in, he improves by leaps and bounds.

Victor corrects Yuuri's posture, critiques his jumps, helps him with his rotations. Yuuri shows Victor how to let the music become a part of his body, like a limb he didn't know he had.

"We should choreograph a routine, just to pass the time. I'm on a break but I should still have something to practice."

"What, like a pair skate? Are you sure I'm good enough?"

"I'm positive."

"Then I don't see why not."

* * *

It's sweet, and comfortable, and they fall into it like old choreography. In retrospect, they should have known it couldn't last. Nothing does.

One night, Yuri doesn't show up for patrol when he's scheduled to.

And there's a note.

* * *

 **A/N:** Sorry! If it's any consolation the next chapter is only 24 hours away. Thank you so so much to drkm200, Makayla, and Sea and Chaos for your kind words and support. Hang in there!


	25. They Came For the Children

**Summary:** If you want to hurt a bear, hurt her cubs. If you want to hurt yourself, try to keep them.

* * *

Any sailor will tell you to be wary of calm seas. The more you enjoy them, the more you expect them, the worse the storm will be that follows.

Yuuri feels numb. He stares down at the note clutched between black-gloved fingers, eyes scouring the page for any tiny piece of information he's missed. Any clue, any tell.

Beside him, Snowcap is much less calm. Ice cracks with every pacing step, forming and breaking as he turns rapid circles on the roof. "How could we let this happen? How- This is my fault. I should have- I-"

The paper is white. Slightly damp from the rain, but the black letters etched on it are perfectly legible.

 _If you ever want to see your little kitten again,_ it says, _you will come to the docks at midnight. No police. Your lives for his._

Why is it always midnight, some distant part of Yuuri muses. No villain ever plots a nefarious rendezvous at ten-past when they can have it at midnight instead.

"We'll get him back," he reassures Snowcap.

When Snowcap turns to look at him, his eyes are full of a kind of desperate rage Yuuri has never seen there before.

"Yes," he says, and his voice is so low Yuuri can feel it in the pit of his stomach. "We will."

* * *

Cold rolls off of Snowcap like a glacial wind. Yuuri has never known him to be quiet, but as they slip unnoticed past the men guarding the main building the Russian hero doesn't make a sound. They pass the armed gunmen in haunting silence, unable to think of anything but the young man-the boy-held captive somewhere inside.

Of course their stealth can't last forever. Sooner or later a guard notices them moving like shadows along a dimly-lit corridor, and he sounds the alarm. They spring into action a moment too late to stop him, Snowcap's fist slamming into the side of his head to knock him unconscious.

Gunfire and screams. Running footsteps. Yuuri and Snowcap don't stop until they reach the central room.

There is a shape huddled on the floor. Costume torn, skin bruised, head lowered. Yuuri only breathes himself when he sees Polecat's back rising and falling with rough, ragged inhalations. He's alive.

"Good of you to come," drawls the man standing over him, a long-barreled rifle held almost lazily in his hands. "I'm afraid this is where your little misadventure ends."

"Polecat," Snowcap says, his voice low and even, ignoring the man entirely. "It's all right. I'm going to get you out of here."

On the floor, Polecat shifts slightly. "Пожалуйста," he murmurs, and his voice is soft and hoarse. "Пожалуйста, не раз…"

Yuuri feels rage burning in the pit of his stomach. Flinging out his hand, he summons up the Thrall. It comes when it's called, drifting out toward the kingpin in rolling waves.

The man tenses, but doesn't lower the gun. "A very pretty trick," he says through gritted teeth. "But you'll find my will is made of stronger stuff."

His mistake, in the end, is his penchant for drama. He lifts the barrel of the gun into the air to cock it, and that's all the opening Snowcap needs.

There's no dramatic flourish. No turn of his hands, or sweep of his arms. His fingers twitch, just once, and the man staggers. He stares at his fingers, motionless on the trigger. Tries to fire. Can't.

"What have you done to me?" he snarls.

"I've frozen the blood in your hands," Snowcap explains softly. "You'll never use them again."

Screaming in agony and rage, the man lifts his arms. The gun is still clutched between his frozen fingers, and he seems about to bring it down on Polecat's unmoving head.

Then he goes still. Collapses. Doesn't move again. His heart, Yuuri will later learn, frozen solid in his chest.

Snowcap is moving before the man hits the ground. He kneels at Polecat's side, gentle hands grasping his shoulders. "Polecat. Come on, look at me."

"я думал…" Yuuri misses some of the words, spoken into Snowcap's chest. "-тор. Я думал, что они снова у меня…"

Yuuri's eyes flash to the corridor. "Snowcap, we've got incoming." He knocks a silver arrow.

Behind him, Snowcap is bundling Polecat into his arms. "I've got you," he says softly. "You're safe."

The arrows are enough to hinder the advancing men, but Yuuri can't hold them off for long. He backs toward Snowcap and his charge, jerking his head to the side. "That way," he says hastily. "Looks like a garage. I'll slow them down and catch up with you."

Snowcap doesn't wait for him to elaborate, doesn't make any gallant argument. He freezes the lock and cracks it, throwing the door wide and rushing through it without a backward glance.

* * *

When Yuuri catches up with Snowcap, he's revving the engine on a pickup truck that's clearly seen better days. Yuuri dives into the bed, slapping the cab window once as he does. Snowcap barely spares him a glance before he's tearing out of the garage, one hand on the wheel and the other on Polecat's shoulder.

The sounds of pursuit are brief and faint. That man probably wasn't the head of Hasetsu's criminal snake, but he was a very important fang. His underlings, confused and lacking leadership, make little effort to avenge him. The night turns quiet.

The three of them drive for a little over an hour. Some of it is distance, some assurance that they haven't been followed. They finally pull over outside of town, near a field that would be full of corn during the on-season. Snowcap kills the ignition but makes no attempt to get out of the car.

Beside him in the passenger's seat, Polecat has fallen asleep.

"Snowcap?" Yuuri says softly, his back to the open cab window. "Is he all right?"

"Yes."

"Are you?"

A long, miserable silence follows.

"…No."

* * *

 **A/N:** I won't be working with Russian for many other chapters, because I don't really trust Google Translate and I hella don't speak Russian. But in this chapter I thought it was important to make Yuri's disorientation clear, and slipping back into his native language works well for that.

Translations:

"Пожалуйста," "Please,"

"Пожалуйста, не раз…" "Please, not again..."

"я думал..." "I thought..."

"-тор. Я думал, что они снова у меня…" "-tor. I thought, they had me again..."

Thank you thank you thank you to drkm2000, DeliriaXHeart, Sea and Chaos, Makayla, KH freak 813, ColorMeAya, and both of my Guests! Your reviews were a treasure to read. Hang in there, because we're getting into The Shit now!


	26. This Far, No Further

**Summary:** We are each of us human, always. Foolish, flawed, fragile. And there are things we cannot bear to lose.

* * *

 _"How is the subject reacting to electrical charges?"_

 _"Standard physiological pain response, but no significant change."_

 _"Increase the voltage."_

 _"An increase in voltage could cause heart failure, particularly when combined with the serum in his bloodstream."_

 _"Acceptable risk."_

 _"Yes sir. Three, two, one, clear-"_

The dream drags Yuri upright with a harsh gasp, his eyes wide and half-feral. A shadow moves beside his bed and his claws lance out, sinking deep into cotton and flesh.

"Ah," someone says softly in the dark, and Yuri freezes when he recognizes the voice.

"V… Victor?"

His vision comes into focus. He's in his room at the onsen, futon rumpled around him and pajamas soaked with sweat. Victor is sitting on the floor at his bedside, and Yuri's claws are digging bloody furrows in his arm. Immediately Yuri yanks his hand back.

"It's all right," Victor tells him softly. "You're afraid. It happens."

Yuri stares at the blood until Victor shrugs on his haori, covering the red tracks in his sleeve. "It's all right," he says again.

Until he says it Yuri doesn't realize that the sound of ragged breathing in the room is his own. He tries to slow the panting, but his heart is racing and his lungs can't seem to fill all the way.

"Victor," he manages, and then gentle hands are easing him back down onto the futon.

"Easy," Victor murmurs. "Slow. You've been asleep for a while. Don't rush yourself."

Yuri catches a glimpse of his own arms as Victor reaches down to cover him with the thick comforter. They're peppered with purple bruises and plastered with a dozen bandages, and he doesn't imagine he looks much better under his pajamas. He looks like he's been through a meat grinder.

"I thought…" he starts, and trails off immediately.

"I know," Victor answers anyway. "I'm sorry. I should never have let this happen."

"You-" Yuri's eyes flicker up to meet Victor's and he's shocked to see guilt there, heavy and miserable. "Not… Not everything is about you, you know," he sniffs, trying to brush off the suggestion.

"They captured you to get to me. To get to Eros."

"I was the one dumb enough to get myself caught."

"It's different. You're a child."

Yuri snorts derisively. "I'm not a child. Haven't been since- since the facility. You know that."

"In some ways," Victor admits. "But you're still very young, Yuri."

Something about his tone makes Yuri's eyes narrow. "Where are you going with this?"

"Yuri…" Victor takes a deep breath. "I think it's time you went home."

"What?" Yuri snaps, sitting bolt upright again and ignoring the wave of dizziness that follows. "Hell no. Fuck no, Victor we have to hunt these bastards down-"

"No, Yuri!" Victor's hands slap down hard against the tatami.

Yuri's mouth snaps shut. Victor is leaning forward, hair obscuring his eyes. His frame is tense, veins visible in his wrists and neck.

"No," he says again, quieter this time. "It's clear now that you're not safe here. Whoever these people are, they've targeted you. This will happen again if you stay, and I can't-"

Victor's voice cuts off abruptly. Horror sinks into Yuri's bones when he sees a tear darken the tatami. He opens his mouth, but his voice won't come. He tries again.

"Victor…"

It's all he can say. They sit together in the dark, the silence thick enough to cut, until Victor's quiet words tear it to pieces.

"You mean too much to me. You're family. I can't lose you."

Yuri doesn't answer for a long time. How can he? What can he possibly say?

Outside, the rain falls against the roof in heavy sheets. It runs in rivulets over the windowpane, distorting the light from the lanterns outside and casting strange shadows across the distance between them.

"…There's a flight out next week." To his credit, his voice doesn't waver.

"Good." Victor stands, moving to the door. "I'll call your grandfather."

* * *

 **A/N:** There are plenty of ways to get off a roller coaster, but not a lot of ways that won't kill you.

Sea and Chaos: Don't worry, Yuuri's definitely going to have reasons to use the Thrall in later chapters!

drkm2000: I'm really glad you feel attached to the characters as I write them! That's probably the best compliment you could possibly give me.

Unconscious Again: I won't lie to you UA, I showed this review off to like three people. I'm so touched by your enthusiasm!

Makayla: Probably about as excited as I am when I get reviews! Except for me it's more of a prolonged "eee" noise.


	27. Now Boarding

**Summary:** Fireworks are beautiful, but best seen from a distance.

* * *

Polecat has, apparently, been sent back to Russia. Yuuri is a bit hurt at not being able to say goodbye, but he understands. He's shaken. He should be with his family, where he can be taken care of. Where he can feel safe, even if Yuuri will miss him terribly.

In the meantime, the flu seems to have struck the onsen's youngest guest.

"Yuri?" He knocks on the frame of the shoji, a tray balanced on one hand. "I heard you're not feeling well. I brought some soup and tea, may I come in?"

The door slides open, but instead of looking down into Yuri's pale eyes he finds himself looking up into Victor's.

"Oh," he manages, startled. "Hello."

Victor smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I'll take those. Wouldn't want you getting sick now, would we?"

"I don't mind-"

"It's fine. Let him in."

Victor says nothing, just steps back to allow Yuuri into the room. He slips past the taller man and lets out a soft breath when he sees Yuri bundled up on the futon.

He's still wearing his signature hoodie, the hood pulled up all the way. Chills maybe, Yuuri thinks sympathetically. He's wrapped in blankets from chin to toes and looks very pale. His eyes are rimmed with red.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer."

"You've looked better," Yuuri admits, kneeling at his bedside and flipping out the tray's legs to set it down. "Think you can swallow some soup?"

"I'm sick, not dead." Still, Victor helps Yuri sit up and extricate his hands from the tangle of blankets.

Gloves, Yuuri notices. Those chills must be pretty bad.

The soup is gone in seconds, and the tea only lasts longer by virtue of being too hot to drink in one swallow. "You have an appetite! That's a good sign."

"Sick," Yuri reminds him. "Not dead."

Victor eases him back down onto the futon while Yuri grumbles about being treated like a baby. Then Victor stands and mutters something about going to the store for more medicine.

When Victor is gone, Yuuri is subjected to a very sharp-eyed stare from the miniature Russian. It lasts for an uncomfortably long time.

"…You're not having a seizure, are you?"

"Tell him."

Yuuri huffs out a breath. "We've been over this. I can't."

"Won't."

"Okay, fine. I won't." He worries his hands, smoothing his apron against his thighs. "It's not as easy as you think, Yuri. It's-"

"I'm going back to Russia," Yuri announces suddenly.

Blinking, Yuuri looks up with a start. "You too?" he asks, before he can stop himself.

Instead of looking confused, Yuri just narrows his eyes. "I'm going back to Russia, and you can't carry this shit by yourself. You need somebody."

"I have Snowcap-"

"Somebody who knows."

For a moment Yuuri feels utterly lost. It's been nice, he thinks. Really nice, to have somebody around he isn't hiding from. But he can't endanger someone on purpose the way he endangered Yuri by accident.

"It's just…" He can't meet Yuri's eyes. "It's too dangerous."

Yuuri hears a snort from the futon. Then, suddenly, a black-gloved hand has insinuated itself in the pocket of his apron. Yuuri yelps, flinching back, but the hand has already claimed its prize and disappeared back into the folds of the comforter with Yuuri's phone.

He watches for a long, confused moment as Yuri taps away at his phone, then catches it as the little device is tossed to him carelessly. When he turns on the screen it opens to a new contact page, already filled out.

"I use Instagram mostly," Yuri informs him, seeming to imply with his tone that texting isn't much better than sending smoke signals. "So I might not always answer. And watch the time difference! Don't wake me up in the middle of the night with a bunch of crying-face emojis."

Yuuri blinks down at his phone, then looks up at Yuri with a wide smile. "Thanks," he says, and hopes his sincerity comes across. "This means a lot."

Yuri scowls at him, drawing the blankets up around his face and rolling to face the wall. "Whatever," comes the muffled reply.

Knowing better than to pursue the conversation, Yuuri sits back on his heels and lets his gaze drift out the window. He waits until Yuri's breathing turns deep and even, the tight ball on the futon going slack with sleep. He gives Yuri's back a fond look.

Not long after that, Victor slips back into the room. Yuuri stands to go but Victor catches his wrist.

"How is he?"

Yuuri smiles. Practicing their pair skate has given him plenty of time to get used to Victor's touch, and he no longer blushes whenever the man so much as breathes on him. "Tougher than you think," he replies. "And he's not the only one who needs to eat. Come downstairs."

For a moment Victor looks like he might protest, but in the end he relents with a sheepish laugh. He follows Yuuri out, closing the door quietly behind him.

On the futon, Yuri opens one eye just for the pleasure of rolling it.

* * *

Five days later, Yuri boards a plane at Hasetsu Airport. It's not a direct flight obviously, there are no direct flights from this backwater to St. Petersburg. He lands in Tokyo forty-five minutes later, and when he turns on his phone two texts pop up on the lock screen.

 _Miss you already!_ one says, the Cyrillic letters giving Victor away.

The other is in English. _Check your carry-on, I packed you a lunch!_

Snorting, Yuri taps back the same message to each of them: _I'm not even out of Japan yet and you're already embarrassing yourself._

Still, when the stewardess offers him an in-flight meal on the way to Moscow he turns up his nose and pulls out the lunch Yuuri packed for him.

"Sorry," she trills, pushing her cart along the aisle. "I should've known your family wouldn't let you go hungry!"

He thinks about correcting her. Decides it isn't worth it.

The lunch is delicious.

* * *

 **A/N:** Don't worry guys, he's not gone for good. He will be with us in spirit, and in many phone calls and irate texts probably.

My eternal thanks to Makayla, KH freak 813, bloSSomO.o, drkm2000, ColorMeAya, Unconscious Again, Sea and Chaos, and my Guest. You guys are the reason this story keeps coming!


	28. Chasing the Rabbit

**Summary:** You can't build Rome in a day, but if you don't at least lay down a few bricks someone's bound to ask what they're paying you for.

* * *

For a few days very little changes. Eros assures him that he's putting out feelers, asking the right people the right questions, but without his own contacts Victor can do very little. Still, he can tell progress is being made. Information comes slowly. A name here, an address there.

"We've been mopping up blood," Eros tells him one day, "When we should've been bandaging the wound."

Victor is loathe to cancel his skating practice with Yuuri. The young man really is exceptional, and Victor loves spending time with him on the ice. Loves the way he laughs, always a little surprised, when Victor goes in for a lift. But without Yuri around to pick up the slack, leaving Hasetsu unguarded once a week is careless.

To his relief (and simultaneous disappointment) Yuuri isn't upset. He gives a startled laugh and explains that he was just about to make the same request. Apparently the onsen is short-staffed now that spring is bringing back the tourists, and he can't spare the time.

So it works out, sort of. Victor misses it, but hunting down the scum who snatched Yuri is more important. And sooner or later, they will.

One day Eros finds the right contact, and suddenly they're one step ahead of the opposition at every turn. A bank heist is averted on the front steps, a drug deal at the port never even makes it off the docks. Slowly, Victor's good humor comes back to him.

"You want this one chilled, or on the rocks?"

Eros gives him an exasperated look, but Victor can see the twitch at the corner of his mouth. "Bartender's choice," he shoots back, and uppercuts a ski-masked figure hard enough to knock him off his feet.

"You are so beautiful when you're punching people."

The twitch turns into a laugh and Victor's world lights up. "Concentrate," Eros chides. Then, "On your left!"

* * *

 _VN: (photo transferred)_

 _YP: what the fuck is your problem_

 _VN: I can't help it! He's so handsome._

 _YP: wow i'm so excited for you_

 _YP: oh wait_

 _YP: false alarm_

 _YP: don't care_

 _VN: How did I ever raise such a rude young man?_

 _YP: fuck off_

 _YP: ..._

 _YP: found the guys yet?_

 _VN: Not yet._

 _VN: But we're getting close._

* * *

 **A/N:** Closer and closer! By the way, a few people have asked on the Ao3 cross-posting of this story if they might have permission to write their own stories about Eros and Snowcap. Just in case there's any interest in similar blessings here, I want to let you all know that I would be beyond thrilled to read your work. If you do decide to pen your own superhero adventures, please remember to credit and link, and in turn I'd be happy to link your stories in the notes!

My eternal gratitude to drkm2000, TheLostPevensie, KH freak 813, Makayla, Sea and Chaos, Dimenuendo To A Crescendo, ColorMeAya, Unconscious Again, DeliriumDancer, and of course my lovely Guest.

To our first-time reader Dimenuendo To A Crescendo, welcome to the fold! I don't know that I've ever read such an enthusiastic review, but I would be absolutely delighted to hear from you regularly. And yes, I've shamelessly lifted the love square from ML; I won't tell Mr. Astruc if you don't!


	29. And Kill the Envious Moon

**Summary:** "Where have you been all my life?" is a difficult question to answer. You've been lots of places. Home, school, home, that week you spent drunk in Houston because your flight was canceled due to bad weather. Spain, one time.

What the person means to say is, obviously, "I wish we'd met as children. I wish we'd met in high school. I wish we'd met yesterday. Every memory I have would be brighter if you were in it."

* * *

As busy as Yuuri is, he still has responsibilities in his civilian life. One of these comes in the form of a phone call from a local restaurant, where Minako has apparently been stood up. She's chosen to mourn this fact, the proprietor tells him, by getting very drunk and making a public spectacle of herself.

Yuuri asks the man, as he's zipping up his jacket over his Eros uniform in a nearby alley, how exactly he got this number.

"All the restaurants and bars have your number," the proprietor explains, sounding distracted. Yuuri can hear loud singing in the background. "You're the only one she listens to when she's like this. Ma'am, that won't support your-"

The call cuts out.

Sighing, Yuuri pockets his phone and jogs the rest of the way to the restaurant's front door.

It takes some considerable time for Yuuri to extricate Minako from the restaurant, in no small part because she tries to take one of the lamps with her while insisting that it's her date.

"No it isn't," Yuuri tells her, gentle but firm. "You can't date something that plugs into the wall."

Minako just laughs the way she does when Yuuri is missing a particularly filthy joke.

* * *

An hour later she's in bed and snoring loud enough that Yuuri is convinced he can still hear it three blocks away. He glances around for an alley to change in, but instead catches a glimpse of gold braid in the moonlight.

"Snowcap?" he calls, and the hero turns to blink down at him. Then a bright smile spreads across his face and he drops to the street.

"Yuuri," he says warmly. "It's been a while."

"Well, you've been busy."

"You too. What are you doing out this late?"

Yuuri lets out a huff of breath. "A friend of mine went on a bender. Apparently the whole neighborhood has my number, so the manager called me to come pick her up."

Snowcap whistles long and low. "The locals called on you to rescue a damsel in distress? And you say you're not a hero."

"The restaurant was in more distress than she was."

Snowcap laughs, and Yuuri finds himself watching the elegant lines of his face. It's a relief to see him laugh again. For a while after Polecat's kidnapping, Yuuri worried that Snowcap's smile was gone for good.

"Headed home?"

The words snap Yuuri out of his reverie. He should say yes, he thinks. Slip away and change, join Snowcap on patrol. But he hasn't spoken to Snowcap as Yuuri in so long…

Which is a stupid thought, because he spoke to him as Eros just yesterday. Still, it's different somehow. Like only feeding half of his body, or breathing with one lung.

"Not yet," he decides. "Thought I'd take a walk by the beach. The moon is full, after all."

Snowcap glances up as though he's only just noticed. "Oh! So it is." His eyes flicker over to Yuuri. "…Mind if I join you?"

Yuuri shakes his head, smiling. They stroll in comfortable silence between darkened buildings and along once-crowded thoroughfares, until the reflection of the moon on the sea blooms in front of them like a white rose. Yuuri hears Snowcap's breath catch at the sight.

"Pretty, isn't it?"

"Beautiful."

The tide is too high to walk on the beach, but the boardwalk is bathed invitingly in moonlight. They meander along it until they find a bench, chatting about nothing in particular.

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah. I told him taking a selfie with your mugger probably wasn't the best plan, but he insists that if the guy hadn't stolen his phone afterward it would've been his most popular picture ever."

Snowcap laughs again, and it feels like a gift. "Wow! Your friends all sound so interesting."

"They are," Yuuri answers easily. "Professional figure skating selfie-enthusiasts, lush ballet instructors. And superheroes." He tosses a little smile in Snowcap's direction.

"Me?" Snowcap waves his hand dismissively. "I'm not that interesting."

"You're a crime-fighting Russian ice wizard," Yuuri tells him flatly. "That counts as interesting."

Snowcap shrugs, looking a little uncomfortable. "Well, when you say it like that." This time the laugh sounds brittle, and Yuuri realizes suddenly just how little Snowcap really thinks of his own good work.

It's easy to miss. When he's dressed as Eros, Snowcap is always bragging-putting on the peacock act for laughs-but there's no such pretension now. It occurs to Yuuri that he's spent so much time watching Snowcap glance at himself in every mirrored surface he passes that he's never stopped to think about what he sees when he looks at them.

"...Snowcap?"

The hero glances up. "Hm?"

"You know I think you're amazing, right?"

A flush colors Snowcap's cheeks, and the moonlight catches the blue of his eyes, and his breath curls out like smoke in the cold night air…

Maybe Yuuri leans up to kiss Snowcap. Maybe Snowcap leans down to kiss Yuuri. Neither of them is precisely certain afterward. The only thing they can both be sure of is that it's soft, and gentle, and sweet. Warm. And it lasts only a moment, but feels like a lifetime.

Which, they both think wistfully, isn't nearly long enough.

* * *

 _YK: Yuri, are you awake?_

 _YP: i am now_

 _YK: I need your advice._

 _YP: what the fuck did you do_

* * *

 _VN: Are you up?_

 _YP: don't say it_

 _VN: Something kind of._

 _VN: Happened._

It takes Yuri a while to answer, but after a few deep breaths he stands up. Walks across the room. Picks up his phone. Critically examines the chipped paint where it hit the wall a moment before.

No cracks on the screen, he thinks. I've gotta thank gramps for this phone case.

 _YP: no shit_

* * *

 **A/N:** I've decided to go back and add the Ao3 summaries to the top of each chapter, because a few commenters there said it added to the experience. I hope it will do the same for yours! While I get my mad document-editing on, please enjoy this latest development between our lovely heroes.

I'm incredibly excited to announce that Danesincry, one of my Ao3 reviewers, has written a companion piece for this fic! You can find it here (just remove the spaces and replace the dot with a period): archiveofourown dot works / 9417287 /chapters/ 21317198

Makayla: Neither can I, to be honest!

ColorMeAya: It actually only takes me maybe an hour to type these up, so don't worry! I have plenty of time for sleep and work and fighting my housemates for food in a feral Hunger Games-style gladiatorial match.

Sea and Chaos: I would be thrilled beyond words to read your work if you decide to write it! And yeah, I'm still working that part out. Don't worry, I'll come up with something!

Diminuendo To A Crescendo: Nonono, it wasn't creepy at all! I love enthusiastic reviews, because they show me exactly how the reader felt when they finished reading. And if that feeling is excitement and joy, I know I'm doing my job!

Unconscious Again: Haha, I do try to keep those update alerts coming! As for the other skaters, most of them won't be showing up in this fic. If there's interest I'm hoping to do a little companion series, with a oneshot for each of them in their superhero lives.


	30. Letters From the Dark

**Summary:** Do you ever feel like a rat in a maze? How many fingers do you have? Does your nose wiggle when food is nearby? Do you have a long, hairless tail?

I know. But it's always best to be sure.

* * *

Victor is pretty bad at handling interpersonal issues at the best of times. Now, with some kind of criminal mastermind on the loose and two kisses lingering on his lips, he's abysmal. His social graces abandon him completely.

He stumbles across Yuuri in the hall one day-literally stumbles, Yuuri is trying to patch a hole in one of the shoji and Victor trips over him-and manages about five words before he pretty much flees down the hall. Next up is Victor Nikiforov, he thinks to himself miserably, who can't even walk across a perfectly level floor without making an ass of himself all over an innocent, beautiful Japanese boy. Let's see if he lands his quadruple lutz.

Yuri is no help. He just sends texts insisting that Victor should 'just talk to him' or 'fucking communicate already' or 'stop texting me you prehistoric bag of sentient dicks'. No support at all from that corner. Victor is on his own.

Eros is acting a little odd too. Nothing overt-he's a professional-but he keeps glancing at Victor out of the corner of his eye when they're working together. He always looks away when Victor meets his gaze though, and he isn't sure what to make of it.

The guilt is killing him.

All in all, when stacked on top of fighting crime and closing the net on Hasetsu's kingpin, life is getting interesting in the worst ways. So of course destiny, not satisfied with the trick it pulled on Victor one dark night on the bank of an icy river, chooses its moment and plays its hand.

* * *

"Three more around the corner," Victor tells Eros as he slides by on a sheet of frozen rainwater. "I'm going on ahead if you've got these."

"I'm right behind you." Eros knocks the last two men unconscious by smashing their heads together, then follows him at a run. Victor is already laying into their new opponents, lodging a heel in one man's stomach and blasting the other two with enough snow to keep them distracted. A silver arrow sings out of Eros' hands and pins one man to the wall.

It's been a long night. The opposition has been crashing over them in waves for more than an hour, and there doesn't seem to be an end to them. Victor has been grazed by three bullets, and he knows Eros is sporting at least one nasty gash from an expertly-wielded knife. If this keeps up much longer, he thinks, they'll have to beat a retreat.

If they can. They're in the shipyard now, notorious for being enemy territory. The way out might already be closed.

This is the latest in a series of full-frontal attacks Eros and Victor have staged. They've been a step ahead for weeks now, and it's finally time to take the fight to the opposition. So far they've had remarkable success, but tonight their enemies are desperate. They're close, so close, but right now with sweat and blood running down his arms, Victor couldn't feel further from the end of the maze.

They round the next corner, Eros already knocking an arrow between his black-gloved hands, and go still when they see just one man standing between two shipping containers.

Instinctively, Victor checks his sight-lines. "I can't see an ambush," he murmurs to Eros, "But that doesn't mean it isn't here."

"He's holding something," Eros hisses back. "What-"

"Eros. Snowcap. I have a message for you."

They glance at each other, expressions doubtful, but then their eyes flicker back to the messenger.

"A message?" Eros says, not moving an inch from where he stands. "Who from?"

"The man you've been searching for all these months."

Victor's heart races in his chest. "What's the message?" he calls, ice crackling around his fingertips.

Without speaking, the man holds up the item in his right hand. It's an envelope, Victor notes. Nothing fancy. No red seal or embossed dedication. Just a plain white envelope, which seems a little anti-climactic for a criminal organization. There should at least, he thinks a little bitterly, be a skull on it.

Very carefully, as though he's holding glass rather than paper, the man sets the envelope down on the ground at his feet. Then he turns his back, and walks away.

Still frozen in place, they let him go. They watch as he disappears into a long avenue of shipping containers, and wait for several moments to see if he'll reappear. Maybe with reinforcements, or an assault rifle. Or both.

He doesn't.

The shipyard is very still. No wind, no hurrying footsteps. No telltale click of safeties being lifted. For the first time since they entered, Victor thinks they might be completely alone.

"I'm gonna check it out," he murmurs. "Cover me."

Eros nods stiffly, and Victor creeps forward on silent feet. No response from the surrounding shipping containers, so he picks the envelope up and retreats slowly to Eros' side.

"Open it," Eros tells him tersely, arrow still knocked and eyes flickering from one container to the next. Victor makes a soft noise of agreement.

The envelope isn't sealed. He flips it open, and inside he finds a single printed sheet of paper folded in thirds. There isn't much on it.

"It's just…" he falters slightly. "It's just a residential address."

"Is it signed?"

Victor's mouth goes dry as he reads the words. "Yes," he replies. "It's signed, The Head of the Snake."

* * *

When they finally leave the shipyard, it's as empty as the grave. The unconscious men have been removed, all signs of a struggle gone. It feels almost as though they're the only two people in the world.

The spell breaks when they step out onto the street, and see the lights of Hasetsu burning in the harbor. Civilization. People. The people they're trying to protect.

They don't say much, exhaustion making their limbs heavy as they walk back to town proper. They stop in a familiar spot, where they've parted ways many times before.

"So," Victor starts, tone low but certain. "When are we going?"

Eros is silent for a moment. Victor reaches out to wipe a smear of blood from his cheek, and dark eyes flick up to meet his. Victor's hand drops as Eros' rises, and for the barest of seconds their fingers tangle together.

"Tomorrow night," he answers.

Victor nods. Turns. Lets the city sweep him away.

* * *

 **A/N:** Rough seas next chapter. Hold that rigging fast.

What a response! I don't know that I've ever received so many reviews for a single chapter. Thank you so much to TheLostPevensie, Unconscious Again, The Blood Cloak, Makayla, Diminuendo To A Crescendo, One Sapphire Rose, slambiel, KH freak 813, Sea and Chaos, Delirium Dancer, and Sachiel Angelo. Bear with me guys, I promise there's sun after the rain.

To Sea and Chaos, who expressed concern about influencing the direction of the story with a fanwork, don't worry. I have all but two of the last chapters typed up, and I know exactly how this is going to end. We're on a charted course now!


	31. The Head of the Snake

**Summary:** I cannot tell you how to be a hero. There is no guidebook, no secret handshake. No ancient sage waiting on a mountaintop to guide you to your power. All you can do is your best, and sometimes even that won't be good enough.

Sometimes it will.

* * *

It doesn't feel real. None of it. The next day goes by like a dream, soft and strange and not quite there. Yuuri eats breakfast with his family, and Mari teases him about his glasses. His mother tells him to eat another helping, and he does. His father pats him on the shoulder and wonders at the way he never seems to gain weight anymore.

Late night skating practice, he explains with a laugh. Lying never used to be this easy.

He works. Cooks for the guests, cleans the rooms. Folds laundry. Washes dishes.

When his chores are done for the day his mother shoos him toward the bath, and he goes without complaint. Victor is there, and on any other day the thought of sharing a bath with the man would fluster Yuuri. Not tonight. Tonight they are both consumed by their own private thoughts, eyes distant as they let the steam coil around their shoulders.

After a while, Yuuri breaks the easy silence.

"Victor."

"Hm?"

"I really appreciate the time you put into helping me with my skating." He pushes a hand through his damp hair. "You know that, don't you?"

Victor smiles. The expression is soft and strange. "I do," he answers. "But don't trouble yourself. I enjoyed it."

They finish their baths in silence, and retreat to their rooms.

Snowcap materializes beside him on a rooftop down the street from their target. Yuuri doesn't jump the way he used to when Snowcap snuck up on him, just glances up and greets him with a tense smile.

"Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

They move across the rooftops like ghosts, staying low. It's a trap. They both know it. But traps unsprung are opportunities missed, and they have faith in their own abilities. Faith in each other's.

The house at the specified address is impressive, if not imposing. Three stories, simply but tastefully designed. Western, Yuuri notes. There's only one light on in a room on the top floor, but that doesn't mean anything.

Front door, window, or roof. He voices the question and Snowcap only hesitates a moment before answering, "Roof."

They check for cameras, and see a few lazily rotating on their bases. It only takes Yuuri a moment to work out their cycle and he gives a count of three before he and Snowcap vault across the empty space. They roll into an indent provided by a sunken skylight, and Yuuri nods to his companion.

Snowcap freezes the latch on the skylight, shattering it with his elbow as silently as he can. It still makes a bit of a ruckus, but before they can second-guess themselves they're tumbling through the opening to land, catlike, on the rich carpet below.

Turning to the door, they wait for the inevitable flood of armed guards.

They wait for quite a while.

Finally, Yuuri straightens. "Do you think it's a distraction?" he muses. "Maybe they're robbing a bank across town, and this is just an empty house."

"It doesn't feel empty," Snowcap answers, and Yuuri knows he's right. There's an undeniable tension in the house. Someone else is here.

They move out into the hall, keeping close to the walls. It's dark, but neither one makes a move to turn on the lights. As it is, every doorway and shadowed hall is a threat. The only source of light is the thin glow from underneath a door up ahead.

As they reach the door, Yuuri looks up to meet Snowcap's eyes. He can't see them clearly, but the reassuring presence of his partner-of his friend-gives him strength. He twists the knob and flings the door open, knocking an arrow in the same movement.

"You could've come in by the front door," a reedy voice informs them. "No need to break the latch on the skylight."

For a moment Yuuri has to squint, his eyes so accustomed to the dark that the brightness of the room overwhelms him. Then his vision clears and he sees an old man, pushing eighty at least, sitting behind a sturdy desk with his chin on one hand. He's smiling.

This isn't going at all the way Yuuri pictured it.

"We're looking for the head of the snake," he says, voice clear and confident in a way he suddenly isn't.

"Oh, that's me," the man assures him. He stands, and Yuuri watches the way he wobbles slightly as he walks. Arthritis probably. "I'm so glad you decided to accept my invitation. Did you have any trouble finding the house?"

Snowcap is practically vibrating with pent-up adrenaline. "You," he says, his voice low and dangerous, "You ordered Polecat's kidnapping?"

"I did."

Yuuri doesn't know what to say until the words slip out, clipped and clean. "What exactly is stopping me from putting an arrow through your heart?"

"Nothing at all," the old man answers, smiling cheerfully.

Yuuri's hand twitches-

"Except of course, your desire to know why I invited you here."

-and stills.

"So talk," he demands. "You're completely defenseless. We didn't encounter any guards, and even if you call them they won't be able to shoot me before I shoot you. What could you possibly have to gain by bringing us here?"

The man moves to a nearby bookshelf, wrinkled hand brushing the spines of the books as though there aren't two angry superheroes standing in his study with a score to settle. "I find myself curious about you," he says. "I wonder, why is it that you have chosen this life?"

Yuuri frowns, but doesn't answer.

"I mean," the man clarifies, "You are both quite young. You have exceptional talents, the world at your feet, and yet you turn your hands to… what, exactly? Public works?" He makes a face. "Civil service?"

"We help people," Snowcap grinds out. "Save lives. You only seem to destroy them."

The man raises his brows. "I provide jobs," he replies gently, as though Snowcap has made a very silly error and he's trying to correct him without causing undue embarrassment. "I offer a source of income to those society has disregarded."

"People have died," Yuuri snaps.

"Oh, people do that." The man wrinkles his nose, waving the point away like an irritating fly. "Whether you want them to or not, they drop dead every day. But what will you do when you can't fight anymore, hm? Will you drop dead too?" The little old man paces toward them, and his eyes sparkle in a way that turns Yuuri's stomach.

"When your bodies fail you, what then? All your good work means nothing. Alone and dying with your secrets and your meaningless list of good deeds. The public won't help you, they'd lock you in a cage if they knew what you could do. And the power of love? A few snowflakes? Those don't pay rent or buy food."

"Get to the point," Snowcap hisses, eyes burning.

"They don't pay rent," the old man repeats, wagging his finger at Snowcap for the interruption. Like he's nothing but a naughty child. "But I do." He spreads his hands wide, a bright grin blossoming on his face. "Work for me," he says, and the words are all honey and sweetness, "And you, your families, all will be taken care of. I'm sure at least one of you has a sweet little mother squirreled away somewhere, hm? Think of her."

Yuuri bristles, fingers tightening on the arrow.

"And that friend of yours, Snowcap? The little boy with the sharp tongue. Some expensive plastic surgery, yes? He could be whole again, human again-"

"Shut up," Snowcap snarls, taking a step forward.

"Snowcap," Yuuri snaps. "No. We take him in alive, understand? He knows he can't outmaneuver us. This is his last resort." He levels a glare at the old man. "And it's failed."

The man's cheerful smile turns into a scowl in the blink of an eye. "Idiot," he seethes. "You could live like a king for the rest of your life-"

"Save it," Yuuri clips. Outside, some kind of commotion catches his ear. "What's going on?"

Snowcap glances out the window. "Neighbors. I guess the latch was noisier than we thought, they're coming to see what's wrong."

"We can't let them get too close," Yuuri says. "Go down and sort it out, all right?"

It looks like it takes all of Snowcap's self-control to nod and walk out of the room, but he does. Yuuri hears the front door open, and then the sound of voices on the lawn. A child screams in delight, and Yuuri's eyes flicker to the window to see Snowcap smiling patiently at several star-struck children.

Then, the soft click of a very expensive safety.

Stupid, he thinks bitterly. Stupid, stupid. He turns to the old man, expecting to look down the barrel of a gun.

The barrel is there, but it isn't pointed at him. Instead the old man is pointing a very steady handgun at the window. At Snowcap. And Yuuri knows with the coldest kind of certainty that he won't miss.

"It's so funny, isn't it?" the old man says, his cheerful smile firmly back in place. "You only have to make one mistake in this life of yours, and it all ends. Just like that. Over."

"Pull that trigger," Yuuri says, and he's surprised by the calmness of his own voice. "And I let this arrow fly."

"A stalemate," the man assesses, as though they're having a friendly game of chess. "But you know, an old man like me won't last long in jail. It's over for me anyway. If I'm going to lose…" He chuckles, an evil gleam in his eye. "I may as well take half my enemies with me."

Yuuri realizes, quite suddenly, that he's out of options. He can't fire without damning Snowcap, and he can't wait for the man to choose his moment either.

So he does the only thing he can do.

"You don't want him," he murmurs. It's an act of desperation. The man is obviously intelligent, but maybe an unstable mind… "You want me. I'm so much better. A richer reward. You want me so badly you could burst."

It's the strongest Thrall he's ever cast. The words add weight, add urgency to the spell and he can feel the net closing around the old man. He can feel it working.

"Fair enough," the old man purrs, "I'm flexible."

He swings his gun arm around and fires in the same movement. The bullet and the arrow pass like ships in the night, and both strike true.

Pain blooms like a flower in his chest. The world turns. Yuuri falls.

Snowcap is alive, he thinks.

Thank god.

The darkness swallows him up.

* * *

 **A/N:** Not much longer now.

Thanks (and apologies, what a way to end a chapter!) to TheLostPevensie, Makayla, drkm2000, The Blood Cloak, Unconscious Again, Sea and Chaos, KH freak 813, Diminuendo To A Crescendo, Sachiel Angelo, G0thicBloss0m, and my Guest. The suffering is almost over.


	32. Even Lovers Lie

**Summary:** Secrets burn like fire in our bellies.

* * *

Victor takes the stairs two at a time, running through the house as though hell itself is at his heels. Idiot, he thinks viciously. You left him alone with a lunatic, a criminal madman. Should have stayed, should have insisted, should have, should have, should-

He bursts through the study door and freezes on the threshold.

For a moment all he can see is the blood. It's everywhere, pooling on the expensive rug and speckling the walls. The old man is lying by the window, a silver arrow flickering in his chest. His eyes are open, smile frozen on his face.

And Eros…

Eros is as still as the grave. It's hard to see the blood on his uniform-the material is so dark-but his face is splashed with it, and his body is so limp. So lifeless.

Victor doesn't give himself time to think. He rushes forward, gathers Eros into his arms, and dashes out of the house. The people on the sidewalk stutter a few questions at him but he ignores them, feet pounding the pavement as he runs. The nearest hospital is Okashira, at the bottom of the hill. He's brought enough people there to know. Ambulance isn't an option, too slow, they'll have to take the roads. But Victor doesn't.

He cradles Eros in one arm as he swings up onto the eves of a nearby house. Runs to the edge of the roof. Jumps. Curls his body around Eros as he lands.

The landscape flickers by like time-lapse film. The world is moving so fast, and Victor is so slow. Too slow. He stumbles, his knee wobbling under the added weight of his fallen friend, but doesn't give. Now isn't the time for weakness.

In his arms Eros makes the smallest sound of pain, and Victor feels relief shake his entire body. Alive. Still alive. Still time.

He lands hard in the alley behind the hospital, ankles screaming protest. He's about to dash around to the entrance when some distant, sane part of himself drags him to a dead stop.

Costume, he thinks. If Eros goes into a hospital, he might not come out.

He might not come out anyway.

Shaking the thought away, Victor finds the zipper on the back of the costume with shaking hands. He's as gentle as he can be-which isn't very, given the urgency-and the costume slides off of Eros' shoulders and down his body with some difficulty.

So much blood. Ignore it, ignore it, do the job that's in front of you.

He's wearing biking shorts underneath, Victor notes. And a tank top. That's good. Just a jogger, out for a midnight run. Caught in the crossfire. No one to worry about.

Victor touches the mask, and his fingers go still.

He'll never trust you again, he thinks, but even his thoughts seem distant. The only thing that matters is the shallow rise and fall of Eros' chest, the faint heartbeat underneath. His fingers curl under the material, and the mask comes away in his hand.

Yuuri's face is as pale as the moon shining down on it.

* * *

 _Patient: Katsuki Yuuri_

 _Injury: one bullet wound to the chest, sustained in a drive-by shooting_

 _Condition: stable_

* * *

He should have known.

The water pools around his feet, running pink into the drain. He watches it, motionless, as he stands with his hands braced on the tiles of the shower wall.

He should have known, he thinks again, his eyes losing focus. Every gesture, every word. They're so similar, like a reflection in tinted glass.

 _Victor had stayed in the ER a lot longer than anyone expected him to. He hadn't paced, which was unusual for him. He'd just stood on the linoleum floor, blood smeared down his front and soaking his hands, eyes distant, until someone had told him that Yuuri Katsuki was going to be all right._

 _He'd thanked her, turned around, and walked out of the waiting room._

Eyes. Smile. The way he laughs, like he's surprised by the sound. The way he moves, speaks, breathes.

The touch of his lips.

Body trembling, Victor presses his forehead to the tiles. The stress of the attack, the shock of the discovery, the relief of knowing Yuuri is going to be okay… it's too much.

He cries.

* * *

 _YP: katsudon's sister says he's in the hospital  
_ _YP: what the fuck victor  
_ _YP: she said he got shot in a drive-by  
_ _YP: what happened  
_ _YP: fucking  
_ _YP: text me back you jackass  
_ _YP: …  
_ _YP: oh  
_ _YP: shit_

* * *

 **A/N:** Just one more chapter and an epilogue. I can't believe I've been updating this story daily for a whole month, what's with that? Thank you from the bottom of my heart to everyone who reviewed, I'm blown away!


	33. My River Runs to Thee

**Summary:** "It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye." - _The Little Prince_ , by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

* * *

Yuuri's dreams are very confusing.

There's a lot of light and noise. People moving and shouting, and all the while a snake coils tighter and tighter around his chest. Its eyes gleam golden, and every hiss sounds like laughter…

He wakes with a start, sitting bolt upright.

Bad idea. The world goes all wobbly and someone pushes him back down.

"Snake," he says, and his voice comes out a little slurred.

"That's the morphine." Mari's voice. He crosses his eyes trying to get a good look at her, but she's still vaguely blurry. "Careful," she drawls, "They'll stick like that."

Yuuri gives up. Unconsciousness claims him again.

* * *

The next time he wakes, he's more lucid. "What… happened, exactly?"

His mother sets down her sudoku and smiles at him in that warm, worried way that makes everyone wish they called their own mothers more often. "Well, you were shot sweetheart." Hiroko Katsuki is a gentle soul, but honest. The red around her eyes and the bags under them betray that her current calm was bought by a sleepless night and a good long cry.

"It was all very frightening," she tells him softly. "But you're going to be all right. Your father is talking to the nurses."

Shot, Yuuri thinks distantly. The word floats around in his head, searching for related memories. Right. He was shot by the head of the snake. To save Snowcap. And then…

He shoots upright again and yelps at the pain in his chest. His mother darts forward to help him, hands fluttering at his shoulders as she eases him back onto the hospital bed. "Your sister said you might do that," she mutters wryly, checking the needle in his arm. "She was the first one here you know."

"Who brought me in?" Yuuri asks urgently, his voice ragged. Please, he thinks, not like this.

"Oh!" His mother blinks, adjusting her glasses. "I almost forgot. Snowcap brought you in! The nurses were very excited. Isn't that nice? He's very handsome, isn't he." She frowns. "I wonder if Victor knows him. So many Russians in town all at once, it's an unusual coincidence."

Yuuri goes deathly pale, and the heart-rate monitor makes a nervous sound from the corner.

Snowcap.

Snowcap brought him in. Which means snowcap knows. Snowcap knows everything.

Yuuri faints.

* * *

Just about all of Hasetsu comes to the onsen for Yuuri's welcome home party. Yuuri doesn't have much to do with it, to be honest. He doesn't like parties much when he's sober, and the doctors have given him very explicit instructions not to drink.

Incredibly explicit. Apparently one of them went to high school with his father.

The only face he doesn't see is Victor's, but he tries not to be disappointed. After all, Victor didn't visit him in the hospital either. Yuuri thanks everyone individually, moving around the room on legs that hardly tremble at all now. Then, once everyone else is tipsy enough not to notice, he retreats quietly to his bedroom.

He wants desperately to see Snowcap. He wishes he had the hero's number, so he could at least beg for the opportunity to explain. I know you're disappointed, he wants to say. I'm disappointed too.

Rolling onto his side, he sees his phone illuminate with a text message.

 _YP: i hear you don't have a hole in your chest anymore  
_ _YP: congratulations on not dying_

Yuuri huffs a laugh into his pillow. Scooping up his phone, he taps a text back. His fingers barely shake.

 _YK: Thanks._

He takes a slow breath.

 _YK: Snowcap knows.  
_ _YK: He dropped me off at the hospital in civilian clothes.  
_ _YP: yeah  
_ _YP: i'm aware  
_ _YP: your sister texts like a drunk wrestler btw_

Is there anyone in the world, he wonders, who doesn't talk about him behind his back?

 _YK: Yeah, she…  
_ _YK: She has some caps lock problems.  
_ _YK: Anyway.  
_ _YK: I think he hates me now.  
_ _YP: ?  
_ _YP: why  
_ _YK: He hasn't come to see me.  
_ _YK: It's been days, and he knows who I am._

There's a pause on the other end, and Yuuri can almost hear his younger friend rolling his eyes.

 _YP: has victor talked to you_

Yuuri blinks. Victor?

 _YK: What's Victor got to do with it?  
_ _YP: just answer the question  
_ _YK: Well…  
_ _YK: No._

Another pause, this one considerably longer. Finally his phone vibrates again.

 _YP: look  
_ _YP: there are things i can't tell you  
_ _YP: because they're not my business  
_ _YP: and because all this bullshit drama is stupid and doesn't matter  
_ _YP: but i'm gonna throw you a bone here  
_ _YP: because you're not completely intolerable 100% of the time  
_ _YP: you have to delete what i'm about to send you as soon as you look at it  
_ _YP: or i'll come after you katsudon i swear to god_

Yuuri stares at the phone in baffled silence. What is Yuri talking about? What does any of that mean? Then the phone blinks again, this time with an image notification.

 _YP: [selfie]_

He opens the file, and Yuri's face stares back at him. Pale eyes, furrowed brow, golden hair. Ears.

Cat ears, to be precise. Two of them, perched delicately atop Yuri's head. They make him look almost like…

Oh.

 _YK: You're  
_ _YK: Are you Polecat?  
_ _YP: delete the file_

He does, hands trembling considerably more now.

 _YK: Why didn't you tell me before?  
_ _YP: if you think about it  
_ _YP: real fuckin hard  
_ _YP: you'll figure it out_

A few minutes go by as Yuuri puzzles over this new dilemma. It's not easy, the fact that Yuri is Polecat requires a lot of thinking space all by itself.

Obvious, he tells himself. Both Russian, both young. Yuri was always wearing those hoods and gloves, they went back to Russia within a week of each other. And the way Polecat spoke to Snowcap was almost identical to the way Yuri spoke to-

At this point, his brain really does short out. His phone falls from limp fingers, bouncing off the mattress to skid along the floor. Yuri is texting him something else, but there's only room in Yuuri's head for one thought.

In the next instant he's lurching to his feet, not quite graceful yet but not slow either. He tears out of the room, leaving his phone blinking up at the ceiling.

 _YP: did you figure it out yet  
_ _YP: …  
_ _YP: katsudon?_

* * *

Victor's room is empty. Yuuri slips out of the house, not bothering to change from his slippers into his shoes. Fuck shoes. Shoes aren't important. He has to find Victor. Snowcap. Whatever.

A neighbor-probably the only one who isn't attending the Katsuki's party, blinks up at him as he whips by.

"Didn't you get-"

"Sorry Mrs. Katsura can't stop gotta go!"

Can't stop, he adds a little giddily in his head. I have to go find my friend who is also my partner who also might be the love of my life and I need to apologize and I need to punch him and I need to kiss him-

The world is a blur. Part of that might be the pain medication.

Yuuri finds Victor on the bench where they'd kissed a week before. It's been a lifetime since then, he thinks as he catches sight of silver hair and a long camel coat. It's been a thousand years. Everything is different now.

Victor is staring out to sea, his eyes distant, the breeze ruffling his hair. His shoulders are slumped and he looks like he hasn't slept since the night Yuuri was shot.

Maybe he hasn't.

"Hey."

Victor looks up at him, and Yuuri must have been blind not to see it before. Eyes lips nose…

"Oh," Victor stands up, his voice almost convincingly casual. "Hi Yuuri. I was just…" He flounders for a moment. An uncomfortable silence grows between them.

Yuuri takes a deep breath, and breaks it.

"…Chilling?"

Victor stares as Yuuri takes a step forward.

"You should be careful," Yuuri says weakly, "You might catch a cold."

Another step forward, and Victor is gaping at him.

"That's, um." Yuuri worries his hands. This is so stupid, Victor thinks he's crazy. "That's… snow way to spend a vacation?"

Before he can close the distance between them Victor is doing it for him, long arms sweeping Yuuri up and catching him against a warm chest, a fluttering heartbeat.

"I thought you'd hate me," Victor whispers into his hair. "I was so afraid-"

"Hate you?" Yuuri asks, barely this side of hysterical. "I thought you'd be disappointed-"

Then Victor laughs, and Yuuri laughs, and there are tears on his face and in his hair and it doesn't matter. Because Victor is here and he's not disappointed and he's Snowcap and it's going to be fine, everything is going to be fine.

"I love you," Yuuri whispers against Victor's shoulder, still weak with laughter. And then Victor is pulling back, which is only disappointing until he presses a sweet kiss to Yuuri's lips.

As kisses go, it's a bit of an embarrassment. It's clumsy and rushed and a little damp, and it's completely ruined when Victor slips on a discarded candy wrapper and knocks their heads together. It's not their first, or their most elegant.

But it's their best.

* * *

 **A/N:** The next chapter will be the epilogue. I'm going to let it stand for itself, so this is my last author's note.

Thank you all so, so much for joining me on this bizarre adventure. I posted the first few drabbles on a whim with absolutely no inkling of what this story would turn into, and for the last three weeks it's been a daily part of my life. It's gratifying to see it finished, but also a little sad. It was a delightful creative outlet.

I might write a series of oneshots about the other skaters in their superhero lives, but at this point I kind of want to rest a while. We'll see.

For now all I'll say is, see you next level!


	34. Epilogue

"I'm busy Victor, leave me alone."

"You picked up on the first ring."

"The faster I pick up the faster I can hang up."

Victor rolls his eyes fondly. He's lying sprawled on the futon in his room, one hand cradling the phone to his ear and the other trapped under Yuuri's sleeping head. It's going numb actually, but it's probably a felony to wake up someone so beautiful.

He frowns as the crackle of white noise makes him tug the phone away from his ear. "Where are you?" he asks. "A wind tunnel?"

"Bad connection," Yuri snaps. "How'd it go?"

"Well your little ploy worked. Yuuri told me all about the selfie, Mr. Couldn't-Care-Less."

"Yuuri's a little snitch."

Victor snorts. "And you, Yuri, are a closet Yenta."

"Fuck you! Somebody had to pull your heads out of each other's asses!"

Someone says something on the other end, and Yuri leans away from the phone to answer.

"Who's with you?" Victor asks, raising a curious eyebrow.

"Nobody. So what are you gonna do?"

Victor hums noncommittally. "We might travel, hunt down the other arms of this organization. They'll be easy targets without the head of the snake."

"Yuuri agreed to leave Hasetsu?"

"Yeah. It's pretty quiet now. Besides, we might be surplus superheroes the way things are going around here."

"Surplus?"

"You didn't hear? Some little girl with a pet pterodactyl stopped a purse-snatcher last night. It was all over the news."

Yuri sputters something incomprehensible, and Victor pulls the phone away from his ear. He puts it back just in time to hear blaring horns and a wailing siren.

"What was that?" he asks, tone perplexed, "Are you in a car?"

"No," Yuri replies, and the sound of wind rushing by makes Victor's frown deepen.

Suddenly he sits up, ignoring Yuuri's sleepy protests. "Are you on a motorcycle?"

"Gotta go!" Yuri snaps, and the call drops.

Victor stares down at his phone in deep consternation for a long moment. Then a slender hand plucks it away and sets it on the nightstand.

"You didn't really think you could get him to quit permanently did you?" Yuuri asks, his tone amused.

"No," Victor admits. "I guess we've been a pretty bad influence."

"Mm," Yuuri agrees, pressing a kiss to Victor's fingers. "The worst."

For a moment, Victor thinks he could die of happiness. He sinks back onto the bed and curls his body around Yuuri's, their limbs tangling, foreheads pressed together.

"I love you," Victor murmurs, and the answering chuckle makes his heart swell.

Dark eyes flicker open to meet his own. "I love you too," Yuuri replies softly. Then he leans forward, and his next words are breathed against Victor's lips:

"All of you."

* * *

The end.

* * *

 **Works inspired by this one** (delete spaces and replace "dot" with "."):

Translations:

French by Silu-chan: fanfiction dot net/s/12412551/1/Ces-h%C3%A9ros-qui-volent-dans-le-ciel  
Russian by Kelismen: ficbook dot net/readfic/5702247/14656205

Illustrations:

Eros and Snowcap, by the-world-builder: the-word-builder dot tumblr dot com/post/157433932322/i-like-stars-click-for-full-size-art-for  
Eros and Polecat, by heyguysitsky: heyguysitsky dot tumblr dot com/post/157671756798/i-kinda-became-a-little-obsessed-with

Fics:

The Sad Tale of Polecat, by Sea and Chaos: fanfiction dot net/s/12336457/1/The-Sad-Tale-of-Polecat  
Not So Like In The Movies, by Danesincry: archiveofourown dot org/works/9417287/chapters/21317198  
High-Flying, Adored: Secrets Revealed, by TheLostPevensie: fanfiction dot net/s/12339862/1/High-Flying-Adored-Secrets-Revealed

* * *

 **Check out the official sequel, Masquerade:** fanfiction dot net/s/12343246/1/Masquerade


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